


When The Night Gets Heavy, Lay Your Heaven On Me

by Ninyaaaaaaah



Series: If All Is Fair In Love & War, I Can't Do This Anymore [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Eventual Laflams, Eventual Laurette, Hand Jobs, High Fantasy AU, John Laurens Is A Healer, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut, War, hamlaf, ish, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninyaaaaaaah/pseuds/Ninyaaaaaaah
Summary: John Laurens saves the day





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11210412/chapters/25041489

“Healing is women’s work. No man worth his salt would call that a profession. It’s so easy, nope, not hard work at all. Nothing to it. Totally for the faint of heart, all this blood, gore, vomit, piece of cake. No wonder there’s not very many male healers, totally beneath men to do this, easier job in the whole, wide, world, father, I totally see why you turn up your nose, just because you can’t do it, gods forbid one of your sons have a talent that you don’t…”

John pushed loose curls back from his face, cursing the heat. He was hot and sweaty, run ragged and exhausted. 

Finally, a moment of peace. 

He plunged his hands into the basin of lukewarm water just inside the tent flap, scrubbed his arms and hands thoroughly with the sliver of camp soap, relishing the feeling of being clean. 

The water was red by the time he was done.

He huffed a sigh. Despite his muttered rant, John loved what he did. 

He just wished he had more help. 

He glanced around, no Gideon, no Jothan. The pair of orphans were always underfoot except when John really wanted them to be. Ah, well. They were probably helping Peggy with something. 

Instead of waiting, John picked up the pitcher of water next to the bowl, and upended it over his head. If he hurried, he had just enough time to get to the mess tent and catch an hour of rest in his own tent before coming back for evening rounds. 

He glanced behind him, guilt at his heels even though everything was fine, nothing needed to be done and Peggy had told him to go, she could manage for a couple of hours without him. 

They were simply stretched too thin.

But who was going to send help down to look after prisoners of war?

Healers were valuable, and couldn’t be spared.

Hell, John wouldn’t be here had he not simply flat out refused to be anywhere else. 

His hand was on the tent flap when he was nearly bowled over by two of the guards, rushing in with a stretcher, right through the waiting area and into the healing tent.

“Emergency John, gonna lose this one!”

Hercules snapped as they rushed past. 

With one last, wistful thought of supper, John turned away from his little glimpse of rest, and followed them in.

“What’ve we got?”

He scrubbed his hands and arms again even though he’d just washed, and approached the stretcher his guards had lay on the table in the center of the small, well-lit tent.

“Arrow wound to the chest. Doesn’t look good.”

The poor bastard wasn’t conscious, at least. 

The arrow was still in his chest, just shy of the heart. The soldier was breathing –shallow, uneven, laboured breaths. 

“Scrub up, Herc. Need you to get the arrow.”

Without knowing the extent of the damage inside, John wanted to be ready the moment the arrow left the man’s body. Even the moment’s hesitation that it would take to set the arrow aside and get his ands on him could be too much. He grabbed the heavy steel scissors from the workbench and set to work ridding the soldier of his shirt. 

“I’m not a nurse.”

Hercules grumbled, scrubbing up all the same. 

John glanced up from cutting the soldier’s shirt off of him. Fixed Herc with a pointed look.

“You are right now.”

No room for argument. 

Shirt off, Herc ready, John placed both hands on the man’s chest, took a deep breath. Closed his eyes, dug deep down inside himself for that well of energy –frighteningly low- and called it up to his fingertips, pale green light in his mind.

“Ready?”

Herc’s voice as if miles away.

John nodded. 

“3. 2. 1!”

The sickening sound of the arrow making its exit from the soldier’s chest, and John slammed his power into the wound, his world narrowing to body and blood. It wasn’t ideal. None of it was. Under normal circumstances, he would never authorize yanking an arrow from a man’s chest so unceremoniously. Under normal circumstances he’d never dive into a healing with his reserves so low. Under normal circumstances he would never use such a rough shove of power to enter someone’s body. 

These weren’t normal circumstances. 

Carefully, John found the gaping hole in the soldier’s lung, knit it back together, soft green of his power weaving seamlessly into tissue and muscle. Stemmed the bleeding next, knit bone back together, pulled everything tight and closed and backed slowly up and out and into the world again. Closed the surface wound, knit skin up, all of it just barely enough, had to save what little reserves he had left… 

“Easy John.”

Herc’s voice rushing in as John lifted his hands from the soldier’s chest, felt a sharp ache of loss like he always did on that moment of separation. 

“He’s not… be careful… couldn’t do… enough-“

John opened his eyes, staggered backwards, needed to sit down, roaring emptiness in his ears and his vision went white-

-

John sat bolt upright, only to be shoved backwards again. 

“Stay put. Peggy will have my head if she sees you before tomorrow morning.”

Herc’s voice, dry, unimpressed.

“You know, when I joined this happy little experiment in passive resistance, I thought I’d be doing more interesting things than babysitting my friend because he doesn’t know his limits. For the love of gods John you should have said something.”

John pushed himself up on an elbow, slower, with more respect for his pounding head.

“Is he-“

“He’s fine. You did enough. Lie the fuck down.”

John slumped back against the pillows, weak with relief and exhaustion.

“…you care too much, John, it’s going to wreck you if you’re not careful.”

John shook his head, grinned tiredly, eyes closed.

“Are you still talking?”

Laughed when Herc punched him gently in the shoulder in response.

“Hey! Don’t beat up the healer!”

“Oh trust me I know better than to pick a fight with a healer.”

John opened one eye, raised his brow at Herc, who shook his head and offered John a glass of water.

“You freaks know far too much about anatomy.”

John laughed and sat up carefully, accepting the water. 

“Now, can I trust you to go back to sleep, or do I need to sit here all night? Because let me tell you there’s things I’d rather be doing…”

John waved a hand at Herc dismissively, drinking the water and setting the cup aside.

“Go, I’m useless right now.”

John rolled over, tugged the thin blanket up over his head. Was asleep before he even heard Herc leave.

-

He felt far more human the next day. 

It was late when he woke, and he assuaged his guilt by heading to the mess tent first. Inhaled a quick, cold breakfast, and tucked a small bundle under his arm. Peace offering of hard cheese, two apples, and a stale loaf of bread. 

John ducked into the healers tent, scrubbed up, and entered the wards. 

“Should you be back yet?”

“Yes. Sorry Peggy.”

John gave Peggy his biggest, most endearing smile. She rolled her eyes and made a rude gesture at him. 

“Sorry my ass. I need you, John, don’t burn yourself out. Gods I wish there were more of us.”

“We don’t have much choice with things like they are Peg. You know he’d had died if we’d waited, and you were busy.”

John shrugged, and set his bundle on the side table. 

“You know we’re lucky to have what we do have. Now, where are we?”

“Morning rounds are done, the boys are feeding everyone now. Go look in on the new patient, I know you want to. He’s in the last tent.”

She smiled at him then, shaking her head a little. 

“You’re the greatest, Peggy.”

She made a shooing motion at him. 

John turned, headed down the row and ducked into the last tent. They were lucky to have the set up they did, a long row of small tents inside the large one that afforded the patients a sliver of privacy. The dirt floors were packed hard and swept rigorously, everything kept as clean as they could.

The soldier showed no signs of waking.

John pulled up a stool and dropped down onto it beside the bed, reached out for the soldier’s hand and found the pulse point on his wrist with the pads of his fingers. Felt the slow, steady rhythm absently while he checked his breathing, looked him over.

Really looked at him for the first time.

The soldier was devastatingly handsome, face softened by sleep. His dark hair loose on the pillow, well-trimmed facial hair beginning to grow in, strong nose, brows furrowed as if something troubled him. 

John sighed, wished he could do more for him, but had to save what little strength he had. He’d done enough, this soldier would heal. 

He could have done so much more if they didn’t have too many patients spread between two healers and two orphan boys who were too young to do all they were doing. If he didn’t have to keep something on hand for the next emergency, and the one after that, and after that… 

-

Two days later, the soldier still hadn’t come to. He was resting comfortably, no signs of anything gone wrong, but still…

John sat at his bedside after finishing his evening rounds, holding his hand, pads of his fingers over his pulse point, lost in thought. 

“You going to fall in love with that boy before he even speaks a word to you?”

Peggy’s voice, teasing but soft, from the entrance. 

John blushed furiously, looking over at her. She smirked, long, dark curls falling over her shoulder.

“No.”

He placed the soldier’s hand back on the bed as if burned. 

“Doesn’t take ten minutes to check someone’s pulse, John boy.”

She let the tent flap fall behind her, walking away, soft laughter making John blush harder. 

He looked back at the sleeping soldier, ran a fingertip down the soft back of his hand. 

“Just want you to wake up, that’s all.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alex swam up out of the darkness, slow and thick like molasses. Sounds and smells filtered slowly back in. Antiseptic. People. Dirt. Groans of people in pain. Soft voices talking. The bustle of camp.

He was in a cot, and… felt like he’d been run over by a horse.

There was someone holding his hand.

He opened his eyes, blinked away the blur in the dim light.

“Why’re you holding my hand?”

His voice was a hoarse whisper. The man holding his hand jumped in his seat, looked up. Freckles dusted across bronzed skin, and dark eyes Alex could have gotten lost in forever…

Except he’d already made that mistake once.

“O-oh, sorry. I was checking your pulse. Got lost in thought.”

He let go, and Alex tucked his hand under the thin blanket protectively. The man shifted his stool closer to Alex’s head, smiled softly.

Alex turned his head away.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got shot in the fucking chest how do you think?”

Heard the deep sigh, didn’t care. Closed his eyes against pain both physical and not. All the details stark and vivid against the backs of his eyelids, impossible to escape. Lafayette, the arrow…

What had he been thinking, falling in love with the enemy.

He’d hoped he’d be able to find Lafayette again that night, to talk, to actually fucking listen to him for once. To offer Lafayette something back, finally. Too little, too late, but he’d held onto so much hope that he’d be able to repair the damage he’d done, that Lafayette would still be there by their creek, waiting for him, holding onto faith where Alex had none…

Apparently not.

You couldn’t expect people to wait for you forever, even if they said they loved you.

Hadn’t he learned that lesson already?

“Are you hungry? You’ve been out a long time… let me get you something to eat?”

Was he still here?

Alex turned his head listlessly back and fixed the man at his bedside with an icy glare that he in no way deserved. Ignored the look of surprised on his earnest face.

“Just leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes, threadbare pillowcase soft against his cheek.

“Will you at least have some water?”

Did he never give up?!

Alex opened his eyes again.

“If I have some water will you go away?”

Was surprised to see his unwanted companion smile brightly in response. Alex glowered, would have folded his arms across his chest if it wouldn’t hurt so much. Instead, he sank lower into the bed as the freckled man stood and poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the small table.

“My name is John. What’s yours?”

He sat back down and looked at Alex expectantly.

Huffing an irritated sigh, Alex pushed himself up enough that he wouldn’t spill water everywhere, body shaking from the effort and the pain. Gods he hurt.

“Fuck you.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Nice name. Here, drink up and I’ll leave you be.”

Before Alex could protest, John was leaning forward, one hand soft on the back of his neck to steady his head, the other holding the cup to his lips.

Alex’s neck heated where John’s hand rested, all complaints dead on his tongue. He looked sideways at John, really _looked_ at him for the first time.

Wished he hadn’t.

John’s handsome face was soft and open, filled only with concern and kindness. And he was handsome, oh gods was he ever…

Blushing slightly, Alex let John tip the cup up, drank the water he was given –discovered how parched he was as soon as the lukewarm water hit his tongue.

“There. I’ll go now, but I’ll be back later to check on you again.”

John stood up, leaving Alex to settle back into the blankets. He watched as John placed the cup back on the table, then looked back at Alex.

“Comfortable?”

“I’m fine.”

Alex turned his head away again like a petulant child and closed his eyes.

There was a heavy moment of silence, and then Alex heard John move towards the flap of the tent.

“It’s Alex.”

Caved the slightest bit.

More silence.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Alex.”


	3. Chapter 3

John didn’t have to try hard to stay busy through the afternoon. Bandage changes and administering medication and checking in on patients. Cleaning and sweeping and checking inventory –uncomfortably low in most things. The day was a blur of trying to stay on top of everyday tasks, and tend to all of the patients. The only one who didn’t call out once during the day was Alex. John and Peggy and the boys didn’t slow once until evening meal time.

“Sit. All of you.”

John had no problem pushing himself past the point of exhaustion, but not Peggy and the boys.

“I’m only taking a break if you do, John.”

Peggy fixed him with a level glare as she pressed a meagre dinner into the boys’ hands. Jothan inhaled his immediately with the focussed determination of a child who had learned not to take food for granted, even when it was right in his hands.

Gideon hesitated, looked up at John and Peggy with his sweet dark eyes.

“But what about the patients?”

“Eat first, Gideon, then we’ll get everyone fed.”

Peggy smiled tiredly, then split the remaining food with John. She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved, and John sat on the ground right where he’d stood, spluttering in protest. Peggy sat beside him and grinned.

“You need a break too, mister ‘I can just heal a lethal chest wound with no reserves no problem oh look I fainted’. Eat your dinner, then you can get back to your handsome soldier.”

John made a face, and took a large bite of the half a sausage he’d been given. Rations were tight, and the patients needed the food more than they did, but they had to eat something.

Peggy snorted at the look on John’s face.

“He not quite as sweet now that he’s woken up?”

“Something like that.”

He ignored her laugh, eating his meagre dinner – half sausage, small chunk of stale bread, apple split with Peggy- efficiently and getting back up.

-

John saved Alex’s tent for last. Exhaustion tugged at the back of his skull and he wanted nothing more than to get some food into Alex, and get the hell out of these tents for a couple of hours. He loved his work, he truly did, but sometimes he felt like he would lose his mind if he didn’t get out of these canvas walls for a few hours, clear the antiseptic smell from his nostrils, look at the sky, anything. In the beginning it had been easy to carve out a small slice of day for each of them to get away, but it grew harder and harder as the war raged on and the number of live prisoners who needed care began to mount.

John took a deep, steadying breath before entering Alex’s tent. He knew he’d need all the patience he could muster.

“Hi, Alex. How’re you feeling?”

The soldier was awake, staring at the wall. He looked somehow even smaller awake than he had asleep.

“Still like I got shot in the fucking chest.”

Flat, deadpan.

John sighed, and sat on the stool beside Alex’s bed. So this wasn’t going to be easy. Fine.

“Well, you did, so that’s to be expected. Can I convince you to eat something?”

John kept his own voice level and kind. Patients could often be difficult through recovery, he was used to it. Besides, if he didn’t rise to the bait, maybe Alex would cut it out.

“No.”

Alex turned his head away from John.

John studied the hard set of Alex’s jaw, the deep shadows under his eyes, the lines of tension through his entire body.

“Alright. Let me rephrase that… you’re tired, I’m tired, and I’m not leaving this tent until you eat something. So how about you eat, I leave, and we both get what we want here?”

“Suit yourself.”

Alex didn’t even move other than to speak.

John could have torn his hair out and screamed in frustration. Instead, he set the tray of food on the small bedside table, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, and waited.

-

When Alex woke, the first thing he noticed was that he was not alone.

The lantern had been lit, soft firelight flickering over the canvas walls of the tent. It was quiet, soft sounds of other people shifting in their cots, but that was all.

The healer’s arm was draped across his lap.

Alex turned his head back towards the healer, surprised that he was still here. He’d fallen asleep, waiting for Alex to come around enough to eat. Alex blinked in surprise, looking down at John. The healer’s head was against his thigh, upper body on the bed, still seated on the stool in a position that looked decidedly uncomfortable.

His dark curls had come loose from their tie, spilling across the thin, gray blanket. Alex fought the sudden urge to touch, wanted to feel something other than the deep ache of despair and betrayal.

But he knew where that ended.

Still, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from John’s freckled skin, his long lashed eyes, parted, kissable lips. The weight of his head against Alex’s thigh and his arm across his lap felt solid, comforting. No matter how much he wished it wouldn’t. 

He hurt all over, the pain radiating out from the healing wound in his chest, muddling his brain, making it hard to do even the simplest of things. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt.

Without even realizing he’d done it, Alex reached out and toyed with the end of one of John’s dark curls. It was easy, with John asleep, to let the silence and the soft press of John’s arm lull him into relaxing.

He snatched his hand back as if burned when John stirred and lifted his head from the bed.

“Oh, shit… I’m sorry Alex.”

John’s voice was thick and quiet with sleep. He blushed furiously, their eyes meeting, John’s arm still across Alex’s lap.

Alex swallowed hard, the unguarded look in John’s eyes stirring something deep inside him.

He was captivated, unable to look away from the heat and the vulnerability in John’s sweet face.

They stayed like that for a long moment before John cleared his throat and sat up, reclaimed his arm, looked away for a moment and took a long steadying breath.

Alex watched him the whole time, small twinge of regret that the contact was gone, the absence of John’s arm a soft weight on his heart.

“Um. Hang on. I just need to…”

John trailed off, and hurried out of the room.

Alex stared at the spot he’d just left.

With John gone, the quiet shifted from comforting to oppressive. Alex shifted, ignored the dizzying stabs of pain in his chest, his throat dry with thirst. Surely he could manage to get himself some water.

Before he got the chance to try, John was back, dropping down onto the stool with a huff.

“Sorry. It’s later than I thought. Um. Are you hungry?”

Alex looked at John. At the tired slump of his shoulders and the earnest kindess in his eyes, and softened at the edges.

“Not really. But I can manage a bit. Could I have some water first?”

Even stringing so many words together in a row was an effort.

The look on John’s face was worth it.

“Of course, here.”

He stood and filled the cup with water, sat back down and drew his stool closer so that he could support Alex again –that hand on the back of Alex’s neck sending heat through his entire body.

Alex drank, hating that he needed help, hating that he enjoyed John’s closeness.

John let him go carefully, and Alex sagged back against the pillows.

“Alright. Food. Just a little, you’ve been out for a while and I don’t want you getting sick.

Alex watched John lift the bowl and spoon from the tray he’d brought in earlier. He spooned up something grayish and, holding the bowl beneath Alex’s chin like he was a child, stuffed the spoonful into Alex’s mouth before he could change his mind.

Alex swallowed the cold, sticky gruel and made a face.

“I know. But it’s easy on your stomach.”

John shrugged apologetically, and offered Alex another spoonful.

Alex sighed, and opened his mouth, accepting the food – if you could call it that. He swallowed, and opened his mouth for John again. Their eyes met, and the softest blush crept across John’s cheeks, the silence between them suddenly heavy.

John fed him a little bit more, eyes never leaving Alex’s, holding him captive, stirring something deep inside that throbbed with pain at the touch, yet craved it too.

He managed two more spoonfuls before turning his head away.

John set the bowl and spoon aside, and carefully wiped Alex’s mouth and chin with a soft handkerchief. It was Alex’s turn to blush then, frozen in place by John’s careful touch, his closeness, his herbal, earthy smell.

John’s hand dropped, and their eyes met again, too close, something charged in the air between them.

Pain and desire warred desperately.

John stood up, clearing his throat.

“I should let you sleep. It’s late. Yell if you need anything, the boys will get me.”

And he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late the next evening by the time John had a chance to look in on Alex. The soldier a few tents down with the deep gut wound had taken a turn for the worse over night, and John had spent most of his day trying to get the man comfortable again. Then there were chores, and his other patients to look after, and evening rounds and meals. By the time he stepped into Alex’s tent, John was beyond drained.

He dropped onto the stool and dug deep for a smile that he hoped looked less exhausted than he felt.

“Hi, Alex. How’re you feeling?”

It felt good just to sit down.

Alex didn’t smile, but it was the first time John hadn’t been greeted with a searing glare. He could be grateful for small victories.

“Where am I?”

Oh boy.

“Hawkseye. About three days ride from Whitefell City.”

John held his breath, watched Alex’s expression change from relaxed to shocked to angry.

“I’m in Lindel territory?!”

John nodded, watching Alex carefully, hoping he wouldn’t try anything stupid. He didn’t know how much the Va’an people knew of Lindel’s operations, but clearly they knew enough.

“You’re kidding me. I’m a prisoner of war. Why the hell did you heal me? Why the hell are you being kind to me?”

Alex’s voice was full of sharp edges and fury. Abruptly, he threw back the thin blanket and before John could stop him, flung himself out of the bed.

John leaped from the stool, knocking it over with a loud clatter. Alex stumbled, collapsed. John got around the bed just in time to catch him under the arms before he hit the floor, and haul him back onto the bed. Thank gods he was small.

“What the hell are you doing you can’t get up!”

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Alex yanked away from John as if he’d been burned, and curled up on his side in a ball, taking huge gulps of air.

Shit.

John ignored Alex’s words, consent be damned, and shoved his hands up under Alex’s bedshirt.

“Let me help you!”

Alex was beyond answering, gasping for air. John took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pushed with his power. Pale green through his finger tips into Alex’s chest, soothed away the fire, calmed the panicking lungs, racing heart, nothing really wrong just exertion. Stayed long enough to know it was going to be fine, and pulled carefully back out.

Reserves dangerously low, John swayed, hands braced against Alex’s warm body.

“Get your filthy hands off me, Lindel scum.”

Alex’s voice, low hiss in the dim light, filled with nothing but malice.

John was done.

He yanked his hands back, choked down the ache of loss at leaving the body he’d just worked on, and walked from the tent without a backwards glance. His head swam a little, after effects of working more healings than he should have in one day.

He walked right out of the healers tents, pausing only to scrub his hands and arms clean, and past Herc at the entranceway.

“Hey, hey, hey John what’s wrong?”

Herc fell immediately into step beside him and John cursed himself for being an open book. He whirled on his friend, pushed past the point of exhaustion, past the point of rational thought.

“Don’t ask Herc. I just… what am I doing here? Honestly. It’s nothing but a fight everywhere I turn and I’m done.”

Hercules raised his hands in surrender, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Easy. What can I do to help?”

John paused, considering. Then nodded.

“The patient in the last tent on the right needs to eat something. Would you mind? I don’t want to send the boys in with him.”

Herc grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

“Is he being difficult?”

Mischeivous gleam in his eye.

John couldn't even muster up a grin.

“Quite.”

Herc clapped him on the shoulder and started back to the healers’ tents.

“Just leave it to me.”

John stalked the rest of the way to his own tent and fell onto the pallet. He balled up his pillow and shoved his face into it, screamed in frustration.

He had fought so hard to get here. Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes and only made him more angry. Why couldn’t he have been born with a talent for sword fighting or politics, something his father would have approved of? Why did he have to be born with a healer’s gift? Why did he have to refuse to serve the army, come out here to Hawkeye instead to heal ungrateful Va’an prisoners? Why, why, why?

Every waking moment felt like a fight and John was stretched too thin and he was exhausted, and just when he thought he’d taken one small step forward, he took another giant one back, and it hurt to have his kindness thrown back in his face over and over and over again. It hurt to know that he’d get up again tomorrow and do it all over again because he couldn’t abandon Peggy and the boys and his stupid sense of what was right and wrong. It hurt to know if he didn’t, no one would.

“John?”

Jothan’s voice at the flap of his tent shook him out of his downward spiral.

“Yes, Joth?”

He found a shred of energy from somewhere, a focussed effort to never, never, ever be short with the boys who were only trying to help and work hard and stay out of the way so that they might have a bite to eat and somewhere safe to rest their heads at night.

“Hercules sent me, sir. I- I brought you something to eat.”

Jothan ducked into the tent as John looked up, lump in his throat.

“Thanks Joth. That helps a lot.”

He managed a tired smile, and was grateful when Jothan nodded, smiled back, and fled after setting down the plate.

John looked at the plate, hunk of cheese and a small handful of the berries that grew around the edges of the camp – berries that no one bothered to pick except the boys.

That small kindness undid him.

Hot tears spilled down his cheeks and he shoved his face back into his pillow to stifle the sound of his sobs. Anger. Frustration. Exhaustion. Desperate longing for something tender in the midst of all this fight, some shred of hope he could cling to, that at the end of the day he was fighting for something worth fighting for.


	5. Chapter 5

Just when Alex had been sure it couldn’t get worse, it had gotten worse. Not only had he been duped, lied to, played for a fool, shot in the chest and left for dead… 

Now he was a prisoner of war behind Lindel lines, and there was no way anyone who’d seen him take the arrow would think he was alive, think to search for him. 

He certainly wouldn’t if he’d seen someone else hit like that. 

His chest ached, lungs sore from the sudden exertion. He lay curled on his side, arms around his middle, eyes shut tight. Focussed only on breathing. He’d felt a yank, deep down inside, the moment John had snatched his hands away, and it smarted now along with everything else. 

“Sit up motherfucker.”

A new voice, cracking through his despair like a whip. 

Alex ignored it.

“Did I stutter? Sit the fuck up, asshole.”

Closer now. Alex heard someone drop down onto the stool beside his bed, and opened an eye. A stranger, dressed in the Lindel army uniform. Dark skin, bandana tied around his head, and a no nonsense look on his face. He raised one eyebrow when their eyes met, arms folded across his chest.

“You want to do this easy, or hard?”

“Depends what we’re doing.”

Alex rasped back. Caught the tiniest hint of a grin on the stranger’s face. 

“Eating. Now I’m gonna say it one more time, sit the fuck up.”

Alex took a deep, painful breath, and pushed himself up until he was sitting. The effort hurt, and left him breathless and tired. He leaned back against the pillows, closed his eyes for a second, tried to focus on just riding through the pain. 

“Who the fuck are you anyway?”

Alex opened his eyes, fixed the large man at his bedside with an icy glare that didn’t appear to phase him at all. 

“Hercules Mulligan. You’re awfully mouthy considering you can’t breathe.”

Alex responded with a rude hand gesture. He wanted nothing to do with this man, or any of them. 

Hercules picked up the bowl and spoon, scooped up a spoonful of the tasteless, sticky gruel, and offered it to Alex. 

Alex turned his head away. It was one thing for John, who had been kind and gentle, to feed him. Quite another for this man to do so. 

“Really.”

Hercules’ voice was dry, unimpressed. Alex shrugged one shoulder, and didn’t move, staring stubbornly at the opposite wall. 

“Alright.”

Hercules heaved a heavy sigh, and before Alex knew what was happening, his nose was pinched shut. He opened his mouth in protest, only to have a spoonful of gruel shoved in, and his mouth shoved rudely closed. With a hand over his mouth and fingers pinching his nose, Alex had little choice but to swallow, and re-open his mouth. 

Only to have it stuffed full again. 

He made a strangled sound of protest, batting ineffectively at Hercules and trying to struggle away. He had to swallow, had to open his mouth again, swallow another forced spoonful of gruel. His chest burned, lungs on fire with the need for air, too much exertion after such a grave wound. He was fuming with rage, struggling against Hercules every step of the way, but Hercules didn’t seem phased at all. 

Finally, the bowl was finished and Hercules let him go. 

Alex spat a stream of curse words, would have flown at Hercules in a rage if he could’ve gotten out of bed without collapsing. 

“You stop giving John shit, you hear? He has better things to do than deal with your childish ass.”

Hercules shook the spoon at Alex as he spoke, and Alex sank lower and lower into the bed, glowering at Hercules like a petulant child. 

“He doesn’t have the time or the energy to put up with your bullshit, and to be perfectly honest you’re lucky to have him because there isn’t anybody else I know who gives a shit about you lot like he and Peggy do. I sure as hell don’t, and I’d threaten to break your face if you give John more trouble but then John will just be the one putting it back together and I’d rather he not have to expend the energy. You hear?”

Alex nodded, guilt mixing with the rage and the pain and the hopelessness that was settling in on his chest. 

“Good. I’m not a nurse and I’m not cut out for this shit.”

He fixed Alex with one more weathering glare, and left.

Alone, Alex curled back onto his side and watched the lantern light flicker over the canvas tent walls. He was alone in the world, but that was something he’d gotten used to long ago. 

Having gotten a taste of what it might be like to be cared for, loved, after all this time… 

And then having that ripped so cruelly and suddenly away…

It hurt all over again, every betrayal, every person who’d claimed to love him and left him, or never even bothered to pretend in the first place… 

Of course he wasn’t worth the effort he was making John put in. 

John couldn’t even be bothered to tell him that himself. 

He’d known the healer’s kindness and patience wouldn’t last. Wasn’t that why he pushed him so? What was the point in trying to let down his walls when the only people who ever climbed over turned around and climbed right back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come be my friend on tumblr! @ninyaaaaaaah


	6. Chapter 6

John gathered his strength before entering Alex’s tent the next morning. He felt better after getting a decent amount of sleep, but wasn’t proud of losing his cool in front of Alex last night. He couldn’t afford to do that in front of patients who needed him to be calm and composed and compassionate always. 

They didn’t need him to storm out of the room without making sure all their needs were met. 

Alex turned his head away when John entered the room. This wasn’t going to be easy. 

“Alex…”

Why did he care so much what this temperamental, stubborn soldier thought of him? John sat on the stool, set the bowl of food aside for the moment, and rested his hands on his knees. Alex didn’t move. He might as well have been asleep for all he reacted, but John knew that he wasn’t. He’d made a mess of things last night, and he was determined to set things right between them. He had some time between now and afternoon rounds, provided no emergencies came in. Peggy was working with the soldier with the gut wound who was declining by the day, and everyone else was stable and resting comfortably. They’d even sent Gideon and Jothan away for a rare afternoon off. The linens could wait, the supply cabinet could wait, all of it could wait. They finally had a moment to breathe, and John was damned if he wasn’t going to let the boys take advantage of it. 

With no new cases since Alex had been brought in, John’s reserves were slowly starting to replenish. 

He’d heard no news from the front in a while, but he held onto hope that maybe, just maybe there was an end in sight. 

He turned his attention back to Alex, motionless in the cot save for his slow breathing. 

“Alex…”

Still no response, but he knew Alex was awake, so he plunged on.

“I need to apologize.”

He was surprised to see Alex flinch as if shocked.

“My behaviour yesterday was not professional, I shouldn’t have walked out on you without ensuring that you were okay, and I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you. It’s understandable that you would react as you did, finding out that you’re here. I’d be angry too, in your shoes.”

He was staring at his freckled, calloused hands, watched them tremble like they always did these days. The bright sun of late morning filtered through the canvas, lighting everything in softness and warmth. He heard the soft shift of blankets and sheets, and looked up as Alex turned his head. Their eyes met, something heavy and bruised in the long moment of silence, some understanding, fragile and newborn stretching through the air. 

John took a deep breath, reached out and found Alex’s hand in the blankets, pulled it out onto his knee. He found Alex’s pulse point with the soft pads of his fingers and pressed gently down. 

“I’d like to explain something to you, if you don’t mind.”

He kept his eyes fixed on the pale underside of Alex’s wrist, blue-green veins under olivey skin, pale against the deep gold of his fingers. 

“They tried to send me with the Lindel army. I refused to go. I don’t think what we’re trying to do is right. The camp at Hawkseye didn’t have a healer at all for a long time, until I refused to go anywhere else and said I’d come here, though. I didn’t want to leave the Va’an prisoners of war in the hands of someone who didn’t care.”

John fell silent, remembering all the fights, all the long nights of shouting at his father, his father shouting back at him, neither hearing a word the other was saying. He’d fought tooth and nail to come here. He fought tooth and nail every moment he spent here. It was never enough. It was never going to be enough. 

“You expect me to believe that you care?”

Alex’s voice was quiet, filled with resignation and a well of hurt so deep it made John wince. He looked up, meeting Alex’s dark eyes, fingers still pressing gently into his wrist. 

“I do.”

John answered softly. Alex’s eyes closed, and when he opened them again his gaze fixed on his wrist in John’s hand.

“With all due respect, John… the last person who told me that is the same person who’s arrow landed in my chest, so you’ll have to forgive me for being a little bit skeptical…”

John watched Alex’s face closely, the furrowed lines of despair, the way pain permeated every breath Alex took. 

“…how?”

The question was out before John could stop himself. 

Alex gave him a look of pure venom, and mimed drawing back a bowstring and letting it fly. He gave his wrist back to John. 

John sighed, fingers subconsciously rubbing a small circle over Alex’s soft wrist. 

“I shouldn’t have asked. I just… I know you have nothing but my word to take for this, but I really do care.”

“Sure.”

Alex shrugged, and they lapsed into silence again, John’s fingers stroking rhythmic circles over the soft skin of Alex’s wrist, both of them lost deep in thought until…

“…I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s how you take a pulse…”

John looked up, surprised by the lightness, the teasing, that had entered Alex’s voice. More surprised to see the barest hint of an almost smile. He blushed, caught out, his fingers lifting from Alex’s wrist so that he could take his hand back. 

Even more surprised when he didn’t. 

“…I, ah… I didn’t mean you had to stop.”

Alex took his hand back then, tucked it back underneath the blankets, and John was sad to see it go. He reached for the bowl and spoon and offered Alex a small smile. 

“I cut some apple up in here today, I think maybe you can handle it now. If I hold the bowl, do you think you can feed yourself?”

John pulled the stool closer and offered Alex the spoon. He knew how important it was to get him doing things on his own again as soon as he reasonably could. 

“I think so.”

Alex sat up slowly, and John handed him the spoon when he was settled. He scooched closer and held the bowl close so Alex wouldn’t have to reach. He sat quietly, let Alex focus on eating slowly, his movements slow but sure. 

“So. What’s the plan for us, once we’re healed?”

Alex looked at John between bites of food, and John shrugged. 

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything. I’m not anyone in the army’s favourite person. They think I’m wasted here.”

John couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, the flash of anger that no one seemed to see that the Va’an people were people too. That they were just trying to survive under impossible conditions. When you backed a person into a corner you didn’t leave them any choice but to fight. Didn’t John know it too well?

Alex looked at him strangely, and ate the last bite of his breakfast, setting the spoon back into the bowl. 

“So why set yourself against your people for a handful of prisoners?”

John set the bowl and spoon aside and stood up, stepping to the side table. 

“Because you’re people too. And because my people are wrong.”

He gathered up fresh bandages, a bowl of water and a sponge, and a herbal paste, and returned to his stool. Alex was still staring at him strangely, brow furrowed with confusion. He had such an expressive face when he wasn’t sulking, so much depth in his dark eyes…

“I told you, Alex. I’m not your enemy.”

Alex shook his head, but there was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before. Hope fluttered fragile in John’s heart. 

“Can you sit up so I can change your bandage?”

Alex complied, and John carefully tugged his shirt off over his head. He tried not to pay too much attention to Alex’s creamy skin, his muscular shoulders, the hollow at the base of his neck… 

John carefully unwound Alex’s bandage, fingers brushing his soft skin, face heating at the contact. What was wrong with him? Alex wasn’t the first handsome soldier he’d treated before, and he never got flustered like this. 

Finished, he set the soiled bandages aside and carefully examined the wound. It was healing well. It was frustrating not to just finish the job, reach out with his power and sink into Alex’s chest again, mend the wound the rest of the way and let him walk out of here tomorrow in one piece. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t afford to spend his power like that. Not in such uncertain times. 

His fingers itched with the want of doing so.

“You’re healing well.”

John washed Alex’s chest carefully, dried him with a strip of cloth, then spread the thick herbal paste on his fingers and applied it delicately to the wound. That done, he carefully re-bandaged his chest. Done, he looked up. 

Fell into the endless dark well of Alex’s eyes. 

They were a breath apart, John’s fingers still lightly touching Alex’s chest where he’d tied off the bandage. 

Time stopped. John couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move away. His lips parted under Alex’s intense gaze, and as if in a dream, John’s fingers stroked up Alex’s chest, came to rest on the back of his neck. 

“Tell me not to.”

He whispered, leaning in a little closer. 

“No.”

Alex breathed, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull away. His neck was warm and soft under John’s finger tips, chin tipped up slightly towards John. 

“No what?”

John’s thumb stroked over the back of Alex’s neck, his heart beating faster in his chest. _You can’t kiss your patients, you can’t kiss your patients, you can’t kiss your-_

“No, I’m not going to tell you not to.”

Fuck.

John closed the distance, lips brushing ever so lightly over Alex’s. Alex inhaled sharply, and tipped his chin up, and then they were kissing properly. Alex’s tongue swept across John’s lower lip and he let him in, tongues tangling, Alex’s soft, plush lips moving over his own. John made a soft sound of want deep in his throat, hand pressing firmer on the back of Alex’s neck as he kissed him deeper. He tasted like heaven. John couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone so much, something charged in their kiss that went straight through him like a shock. 

“Alex…”

John shifted off the stool and onto the bed, one knee on either side of Alex’s hips, forgetting where they were, why they were here, all of it. Pressed Alex back against the pillows, licked into his mouth again-

Jumped back like he’d been stung at Alex’s gasp of pain. 

“Shit, fuck, crap, I’m sorry Alex are you okay?!”

John leaped off the bed, back on the stool and leaning over Alex, hands on his shoulders gently. 

Alex huffed a soft laugh, took a couple deep breaths.

“I’m fine.”

Their eyes met again, and for a brief moment John got to see the softness there, vulnerability and loneliness and want- 

And then pain, just pain, and then walls.

Alex turned away, tugged the thin blanket up again. 

“I’m going to rest now, okay?”

His voice wasn’t harsh but his words still stung, shutting John out, putting distance back between them. 

“Okay.”

John stood and quietly put everything away, balled up the used bandage and cast one last, forlorn look at Alex, shoulders tight, curled away from John. 

“I’m sorry, Alex…”

Got nothing back. 

Heart heavy, equal parts guilt and desire, John silently left Alex’s tent.


	7. Chapter 7

“You did what?!”

“Shhh!”

John blushed brightly, sure that the entire camp had heard Peggy’s shriek. It was a rare moment when they were both away from the healers tents, Gideon and Jothan on hand to fetch them back if needed. John buried his face in his hands and groaned, flopping over backwards on Peggy’s bedroll.

“Honestly John Laurens, you can’t just… ugh what am I going to do with you?”

Peggy threw her hands up in the air and kicked John’s leg gently with her socked foot.

“I can’t help it Peggy, there’s just… there’s something about him.”

John shrugged helplessly, hands still over his face. Sunlight just barely filtered in through the canvas of Peggy’s tent, and John was grateful to the dim light for hiding some of his blush.

Not that he ever got anything past Peggy.

“Uh huh. Okay. You realize he’s a Va’an prisoner of war, don’t you?”

Peggy sat cross legged in the center of the bedroll, blankets rumpled beneath them. Her dark curls tumbled over one shoulder and she looked down at him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“I know Peg. I didn’t mean to, it just sort of… happened.”

Peggy snorted.

“Right, you accidentally kissed him. I believe you, Laurens.”

She stood up, tugged her boots back on and scraped her hair back into a ponytail.

“If you need me to take him over let me know.”

Peggy secured her hair and took a sip from her cup of water.

John shook his head, felt suddenly protective of his newest charge at the suggestion. He knew Peggy would take as good care – probably better – of Alex than he did, but he was reluctant to relinquish his care. He could handle it, whatever there was or wasn’t between them.

“No, it’s okay. But thanks.”

Somehow, the moments when Alex was soft and sweet had become the brightest moments in John’s life. Every time he managed to get past Alex’s defenses, he felt gratified, those small, soft moments making up for thousands of hard ones.

“You thinking with your heart or your dick, John?”

John sat up and stretched, ready to follow Peggy back to work, let the boys have a break for a couple of afternoons. They hadn’t had any new patients since Alex’s arrival, and were finally starting to get caught up. The breathing room was nice… yet something nagged at the back of John’s mind.

Peggy’s question made him pause. He knew so little about Alex, but there was something about him that drew him like a moth to a flame. The intelligence that burned relentless in his dark eyes, the brief glimpses of personality under the hurt and the anger…

Peggy paused, tent flap open in her hand.

“If it’s anything but your heart, John, it’s not worth it.”

She said, voice soft, and let the flap fall behind her.

John sighed, stayed where he was for a moment. He knew it was foolish to let himself get involved with Alex, that as soon as the war was over he’d be gone, home to Va’an one way or another, and that would be it. But still, when he was around him he couldn’t keep that guard up, didn’t want to…

-

John spent the afternoon with the patient with the gut wound. Lost in a healing trance of pale green, hands gentle on the man’s sides, John reached out with green light, chased infection back, knit the stubborn wound closed for what felt like the hundredth time, just couldn’t do enough.

The man’s groans of pain barely registered through the protection his power afforded him. It let him see more clearly than ever. It sheltered him in its warmth, feeding back in an endless loop of love and generosity to its source and out again to the patient. He never felt as grounded and sure as he did when he was working with his power, never felt so complete.

He pulled back properly when the green light started to waver and dim, knowing he hadn’t done enough, that Peggy would have to take over after evening rounds and do the same thing until her green light wavered and flagged, and then they would be back at it again in the morning, baring a miracle.

Carefully, slowly, John pulled the green light back into himself, withdrawing from the patient with as much gentleness as he could. It didn’t do to slam in or yank out of other people’s bodies too rough or too quick –something he’d done too often of late.

Finally, deep breath and he was back, blinking away the disorientation of returning fully to his own body.

The man in the cot slept, but not easily. For now, it had to do.

John took a long moment to reorient himself, felt his power settle back into his bones where it belonged, and only then removed his hands.

He stood carefully, knowing he’d pushed close to his limits again. Exhaustion weighed heavy, but he hadn’t over extended.

Barely.

He left Gideon to watch the man, and helped Peggy with evening rounds through a daze of exhaustion. Patients fed, bandages changed, reassurances given. Every tent he stepped into asked him to give a little more of himself, when he felt he had nothing left.

From somewhere, he always found something.

Finally, he reached Alex’s tent. He’d been last at first simply due to tent placement, but now John was doubly glad. If Alex was in a good mood, John would want to linger here.

If he wasn’t, he would truly have nothing left once he left this tent.

Swallowing a flutter of nerves over the memory of their kiss that morning, John ducked through the flap and into Alex’s tent.

“Hey Alex. How-“

“-if you ask me that one more time I’m going to strangle you with this blanket.”

John blinked, swallowing the rest of his question.

Alex was sitting up, looking more alert than he had yet.

John dropped down onto the wooden stool at the bedside, set the bowl of food aside.

“That bad, huh?”

John could have wept with joy and relief when the corner of Alex’s mouth turned up in the tiniest smirk. He hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been until that moment, worried he’d overstepped by kissing the soldier.

“No, I’m alright.”

The air felt lighter between them, and John resisted the urge to grab at the moment with both hands, hold it close against his chest with an aggressiveness that would have surely ruined it. Instead, he picked up the bowl and spoon and offered both to Alex.

“Think you can manage this by yourself?”

Was grateful when Alex nodded and took both the bowl and spoon and began to eat carefully.

“You don’t have anything to read, do you?”

Alex asked between bites of food. John grinned, and nodded.

“I do. Hang on.”

He got up and ducked back out of the tent, headed for his own tent as quickly as he could manage without running. If he looked like he was on a mission maybe no one would stop him, drag his attention away for this that or the other thing. He ducked into his tent and picked up the one book he’d brought with him, and hurried back.

He took the finished bowl away from Alex and set it aside, then sat back down on the stool.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing interesting, and it’s the only one I’ve brought so we’re going to have to share, but if that’s alright with you, then we can read it together.”

Alex nodded eagerly, his hair falling into his face. He huffed, shoved it back impatiently.

“Ugh. You don’t have a spare tie, do you?”

John bit back a soft laugh at Alex’s frustration, and nodded.

“I do. Let me help you?”

He set the book aside for the moment and stood, hunted around on the side table until he located the comb he knew would be there somewhere. He tugged the stool closer to the top of the bed and sat back down, motioning for Alex to turn his head.

Alex looked away obediently, and John gathered up his silky black hair in his hands.

“It’s driving me crazy.”

Alex muttered, and John grinned. He started working the comb carefully through Alex’s hair, starting at the bottom and working up, something soothing about the simple task combined with Alex’s closeness.

“I think that means you’re officially starting to heal.”

John murmured back, fingers and comb working all the tangles from Alex’s hair.

“I don’t know about that. I’d probably be feeling better if someone hadn’t pressed on my chest this morning…”

Despite the hint of teasing in Alex’s voice, John’s hands stilled and his face burned with embarrassment. A moment of loaded silence stretched between them, and then John carefully parted Alex’s hair into sections. He started to braid it with skilled fingers, hummed softly into the silence after a moment and felt Alex relax in increments as he worked. Alex let out a soft sigh, bed shirt slipping down off his shoulder.

Finished, John tied off the end of Alex’s hair with his spare tie, and let go.

“There. Better?”

“Thank you.”

Alex turned, and there they were, too close once again. John’s breath caught in his throat, overwhelming desire to press a kiss to Alex’s bare shoulder washing over him.

Their eyes met, and Alex’s lips parted on a soft breath. He leaned in, eyes closing, and John placed one finger gently to that perfectly parted mouth.

“I’d love to kiss you again, baby girl, but your chest hurts, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally press on it again…”

Laughed when Alex’s eyes flew open, expression of shock on his face that was quickly replaced by an indignant pout.

“I thought you wanted to read?”

John picked up the book again, waggled it in the air and raised his eyebrows at Alex, who’s pout only deepened.

John ignored it, flipping the book open to where he’d left off. The lantern light flickered over the worn pages. The book was a gift from his sister, Martha, just before he’d left. Beautiful illustrations of all kinds of creatures and their anatomy, with detailed descriptions to match. John shifted, leaning an elbow on the edge of the cot, and began to read out loud to Alex, a paragraph about the natural habitat of the long nosed turtle.

“I can’t believe you’re ignoring me for a book about turtles-“

Alex griped, though he leaned in and settled back against the pillows anyways.

“Shh. I’m not ignoring you, I’m reading to you, just like you asked for.”

John didn’t remove his eyes from the page – afraid that if he so much as glanced at Alex, he would be kissing him again, and he didn’t want to do that because he knew if he did he wouldn’t want to stop.

So instead, he read to him, all about long nosed turtles, pointed out some of the intricacies in the illustrations and leaned in closer so Alex could see. Their shoulders rested gently together, heads close, bent over the book. There was a quiet intimacy about it that made John’s heart clench, and he read until his voice began to grow hoarse, afraid to break the spell.

Finally, unable to focus on the words any longer, John closed the book and set it aside on the table. Alex had nestled down into the cot, blinked sleepily at John when he stood up.

“Thank you.”

Alex said, voice soft.

And he smiled.

And John’s heart skipped a beat and he knew he was a goner.

“Alex… I’m happy to. It was nice, having some company…”

Blushing furiously, John bent down, covering Alex’s mouth with a slow, deep kiss. Alex’s hand came up to rest on the back of John’s neck, soft sound in his throat that broke John’s heart and dammit, he didn’t want to go, never wanted to leave Alex, but he was dead on his feet and he needed his strength.

Reluctantly, John pulled back. Kissed Alex on the tip of his nose, and stood.

“Good night, Alex. Sleep well.”

Ducked out of the tent before he could change his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.
> 
> I listened to this song on loop while writing this chapter:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBENsm9OkIk&list=PL8TsdqtgdTfuXilbkOefuyZIkxDYwEWUG&index=11
> 
> It is also the song that the title of this fic came from ;)

Sleep eluded Alex. 

Once John left, the soft glow of warmth that had settled over the tent dissipated. Alex tossed and turned, chest sore, heart aching. He missed Lafayette, even as he wanted so badly to hate him. Tried not to think about him, the truth was out, Alex had just been something to entertain him for a while and get rid of when he was done…

But John, John was so sweet, so kind. John saw him as a person, not a novelty, or at least claimed that he did. 

Alex couldn’t deny the deep pull he felt towards John, something about the healer tugged at him.

He stared at the ceiling, thoughts drifting back to the gentle way John had combed and braided his hair, the warmth whenever their bodies touched, the look in his eyes right before they’d kissed… 

…the kiss itself, the way their lips moved, the warmth deep in Alex’s belly when he’d licked into John’s mouth… 

Alex groaned softly, cock stirring at the memory. 

Shit.

He was never going to get to sleep now.

With a huff of frustration, Alex kicked the thin blanket off and tugged his bed shirt up to his armpits, then with an impatient growl, struggled out of it completely. The ache in his chest and the breathlessness that came with it did nothing to ease the ache of desire. 

The lantern flickered low, throwing harsh shadows over the inside of the tent. Alex spat in his palm and gripped his cock firmly. His legs fell apart as he started to stroke, lips parting on a low moan. 

“Gods… John…”

He murmured, picturing John above him, his hand replacing Alex’s, stroking him, whispering in his ear, the lantern light picking up the stunning way those freckles covered John’s body… 

Alex gripped his cock tighter, jacking himself with quick, firm strokes. Precome dripped over his fingers and onto his belly, made his strokes deliciously slick as it got between his fingers and coated his cock. He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive head, panting with need. 

“John…”

“…Alex?”

John voice, uncertain and breathy. 

Alex’s eyes snapped open and his hand stilled. John stood in the entrance of the tent, flap pushed back in his hand, eyes wide. His cheeks were flushed pink, mouth open, eyes fixed on Alex’s cock in his hand. 

Alex stared at John staring at him for a long moment, cock twitching under John’s wide eyed gaze. 

“Fuck.”

Alex breathed, gave his dick a squeeze, and started stroking again. Slow, teasing. Thumbed over the head of his cock and swallowed hard. 

“Alex…”

John breathed, stared, unmoving. 

Alex grinned lopsidedly, tightened his hand and stroked faster. 

“You can stay. But you might want to close the tent flap.”

He laughed a short laugh when John jumped, blushed a brilliant shade of red, and stepped into the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him. He stayed where he was, eyes never leaving Alex. 

Cock flushed and dripping, Alex couldn’t wait any longer. He let his head fall back and his hips hitch up, stroking himself in earnest now. His chest burned and ached, lungs protesting the exertion, made it harder to breathe. 

“John… shit… wish this was your hand… fuck… I want you…”

Alex panted, but it was all too much- touch, after so long without it, the burn and ache in his chest, John standing there watching him-

“I can’t… fuck!”

He couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. His orgasm slammed into him, release crashing over him as he spilled over his hand and belly, hips jerking as he stroked himself through his orgasm. 

Breathing hard, Alex looked up at John, still standing just inside the tent, lower lip gripped between his teeth. Hand gripping his cock through his breeches. 

Alex was positive he’d never seen anything so alluring.

“Come here.”

Alex let go of his cock and brought his hand up to his mouth, eyes never leaving John’s. Meticulously, teasingly, he cleaned every drop of come from his fingers with his tongue, watched John watch him. Watched John give himself a squeeze through his breeches, huff of breath through his nose.

“John. Come. Here.”

The hum of tension between them was tense, fragile. Alex almost didn’t dare to breathe, felt like he was standing on the edge of something, poised to fall. Wanted to jump with a fierce, desperate desire that startled him.

Couldn’t do it alone.

“Please.”

He whispered, heartbeat jacking higher in his chest, searching desperately for something he could hold onto in John’s wide eyes. 

Then John was there, yanking his shirt off over his head, climbing onto the cot with knees on either side of Alex’s hips, hands digging into Alex’s hair. He covered Alex’s mouth in a searing kiss that stole the breath from his lungs.

“Fuck, Alex, I’ve wanted this so bad…”

John’s voice, burning hot, scorched a path straight through the centre of Alex. 

Alex reached up, hands stroking up over John’s sides, his back, wanted to touch everywhere all at once and whined from the need of it. John kissed Alex again, their tongues tangling together. Beneath him, Alex arched up off the bed, desperate for contact, chest wound be damned. If falling always felt like this, there was nothing he would rather do. 

His hands stroked down John’s back and followed the sharp lines of his hips to his belt buckle. 

“Wanna touch you, baby boy.”

Alex murmured into the kiss, fingers fumbling John’s belt undone.

“Please, Alex.”

John whined back, breathy, needy. 

Alex’s gut twisted with a sharp spike of desire, the sound of John’s voice, desperate for him, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. 

He shoved John’s breeches down his hips. Brought a hand to his cock and gripped him gently, thumb brushing over the head, back and forth, back and forth. 

“Gods, Alex, Alex… ah, please!”

John’s hips bucked into Alex’s loose grip, and he buried his face in Alex’s neck, panting. 

Alex gave John’s cock a few quick strokes, slicking precome down his thick length. His free hand stroked down John’s ass, one finger settling over his hole, stroking lightly. Teasing. Testing the waters. John’s breath hitched against Alex’s neck, cock twitching in his hand. 

“This okay?”

Alex whispered, turned his head to nose John’s chin up, kiss his jaw. 

“Please.”

Voice hoarse and on the verge of breaking.

“Gotta be something around here we can use…”

Alex’s finger stroked a slow circle over the puckered flesh, aching to press inside.

“Shit. Yes, hang on.”

Reluctantly, John sat up, balanced on his knees over Alex, legs spread, cheeks and chest and cock flushed with need.

“Gods you’re beautiful.”

Alex murmured. Stroked a hand up John’s lean, muscular stomach. Tweaked one brown nipple. Stroked back down his side and gave his ass a firm squeeze. Moaned softly when John’s head fell back, body arched, mouth open and panting with want, cock dripping. 

Swatted him lightly on the ass. 

“Go on.”

Grinned a little, teasing. Felt wrapped up tight and warm and safe in the heady glow of lust and affection. 

John swung his leg over Alex, got down off the cot and stripped his breeches and boots off. Left them where they dropped on the dirt floor and made quick work of locating a small bottle on the side table –giving Alex a glorious view of his entire backside – before he was back, knees on either side of Alex’s hips. He handed the small bottle to Alex, leaned in-

-Alex caught him with a hand on his chest and pushed him back, shaking his head.

“Stay there.”

Drank in the sight of him as he poured the thick liquid over his fingers. Gave John’s cock a quick stroke, then found his hole with his fingers again. Watched John take a deep, shaky breath, head tipping back, soft moan on his lips. 

Alex stroked his fingers over John’s hole, over and over, waited until the tight muscle gave in and he could slip one finger inside. Fucked his finger gently in and out of that tight heat, growing hard again at the feel of John around him, silken walls tight around his finger, and the sight of him, legs spread and balanced above him, the lantern light flickering over his freckled skin.

“Gods John, look at you.”

Alex breathed reverentially. He slipped a second finger in alongside the first, found that sweet spot inside and stroked over it with curled fingers. 

“Alex!”

John cried out, pushing back into Alex’s fingers, precome dripping onto Alex’s belly. 

“Like that, baby boy? Gods, can’t wait to have my dick in your ass, so tight and hot around my fingers, fuck.”

Alex pumped his fingers in and out of John’s hole, hitting his prostate with every stroke, drawing the most delicious moans and whines from John’s lips. 

“Please, please, fuck, Alex… ahh. Need to come.”

John’s thighs trembled, hands braced there for balance, untouched cock flushed red. Alex had never seen anything so exquisite. 

“Touch yourself, baby. Want to watch you come all over me.”

Alex snuck his free hand to his own cock, moaned low in his throat as he started stroking, pumping himself in time to his fingers in John’s ass. 

“Ah, shit. Feels so good, Alex.”

John gripped himself firmly, jacked himself with tight, quick strokes, couldn’t help rocking his hips a little, trapped between the friction of his cock and Alex’s fingers rubbing over his prostate again and again and again. 

Alex gripped himself tighter, stroked faster, his fingers stroking over John’s prostate insistently.

“Alex!”

John came apart, thick ropes of come splashing onto Alex’s chest and stomach. 

“Fuck, John!”

John’s muscles pulsing around Alex’s fingers were enough to send Alex right over the edge a moment later, shooting onto his stomach and adding to the mess there, lungs burning, wave after wave of pleasure wringing him out from head to toe. 

John fell forwards, hand beside Alex’s head on the pillow and they were kissing again, messy, urgent, licking into each other’s mouths as if they’d never again get the chance. 

Alex wiped his hand on the sheets, then stroked up John’s back, let his hand rest on the back of John’s neck. He relaxed into the kiss, the warmth, heavy scent of sex in the air, the whole world narrowed to the inside of these four canvas walls and the way it felt when John touched him. 

“Babygirl.”

John murmured against his mouth, heat of a different kind licking through Alex from head to toe.

“Stay.”

Alex whispered back. Quick. Needy. 

Breath caught and held when John pulled back, sat up. Stood up. Cold wave of dread crept over him.

“Hey.”

Alex looked up at the sound of John’s voice. Saw the softness in his face, and then his hand cupped Alex’s cheek and his lips brushed his forehead.

“I am. Just… we made a bit of a mess of you.”

Quick kiss, and John went to the side table. 

“I can’t leave you like that. Can’t turn the healer part of my brain off, sorry babe.”

Alex grinned, watched John pour water into a bowl and wet a strip of cloth. 

“On second thought, you can stay over there like that. Gives me a great view.”

Licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow at John when he twisted around, blushing furiously but smiling too. 

“Brat.”

John shook his head as he came back over. 

Alex swallowed hard, had to look away when John carefully scrubbed him clean. Felt laid open and vulnerable, and couldn’t help but brace for impact. 

Instead, John nudged him carefully over, settled on his side in the cot beside Alex, and tugged the sheet up over them. 

“Don’t let me hurt you by accident.”

John kissed the side of Alex’s head and looped his arm loosely over Alex’s stomach. 

“You won’t.”

Alex turned his head, kissed John properly, relished the way it felt to lie here with John’s warmth tight against him. Felt safe.

They traded kisses until they fell asleep, languid under the warm weight of afterglow.


	9. Chapter 9

John woke with a mouthful of Alex’s hair. His back hurt and he was balanced precariously on the edge of the cot, arm tight around Alex’s stomach. Alex’s arm was around him, hand loose and warm against his back. He hadn’t meant to stay the whole night, worry about accidentally aggravating Alex’s wound in his sleep overriding his desire for closeness. He hadn’t meant to do any of this, when he’d given up tossing and turning last night and padded quietly into the healer’s tents to check on Alex. Just in case. Just because he couldn’t get the soldier out of his head and maybe if he looked in on him for a moment that would be enough.

He’d expected Alex to be asleep and none the wiser come morning.

He certainly hadn’t meant to walk in on Alex with his hand on his cock, stroking himself, open mouthed, eyes closed, urgent. A few delicate strands of his hair had escaped Alex’s braid and his brow was creased, soft moan escaping his lips.

The sight had John achingly hard in moments. He could have stayed there forever, just watching, cheeks flushed pink with the shock and shame of witnessing something so private. 

And that was before Alex had thumbed over the head of his cock and groaned John’s name like it was John’s hand, not his own, stroking him off. John’s dick twitched at the suggestion and he’d forgotten himself and responded…

Now he was here. Stiff and not at all sorry. He huffed, annoyed at the sun for rising and bringing this moment to its inevitable end.

With a soft sound, John buried his face back into Alex’s neck, felt his soft skin against his face, the warmth of his body, the way he smelled. The gentle rise and fall of Alex’s belly under his arm and the quiet mumble in response to John’s moving made his heart swell.

He lifted his arm off Alex’s belly slowly, careful to part gently, the separation of two bodies entwined always a delicate thing. Softly, John brushed the stray strands of dark hair off Alex’s forehead, smoothing them back.

Alex mumbled something in his sleep and turned his head, nuzzling closer.

John stroked the backs of his fingers across Alex’s soft cheek, content just to lie here like this for hours, just soft touches, just silence, just the comforting feel of Alex’s breathing against him. He needed touch so badly, gave and gave and gave and never got to just bask in the warmth of affection…

“John?”

Peggy’s voice, soft, from the entrance to the tent.

John closed his eyes, shook his head a little, stuffed his face against Alex’s neck and whined. He wanted to stay right here, but the day had arrived and it needed him, and he couldn’t say no.

With a heavy sigh, he untangled from Alex and sat up slowly, thin blanket falling to his hips. He avoided looking right at Peggy, didn’t want to see the look on her face. Rubbed his hands over his face to stall, and hitched the blanket higher over Alex’s stomach.

When he finally met Peggy’s gaze, a blush started to heat his cheeks and he bit his lower lip, caught red handed.

Peggy shook her head, something soft and heavy and unreadable in her gaze. She nodded towards the main tent, and let the tent flap fall, leaving him alone with Alex.

Stomach twisting with nerves, John looked back down at Alex, face soft in sleep, worn bandage around his bare chest…

Clung tight with both hands to hope that whatever other wounds were under there, the ones he couldn’t heal with his power, weren’t so severe that all of this was in vain.

Carefully, John got out of bed, tucked the blanket in around Alex, and tugged his breeches and boots back on. He yanked his tangled hair back into the tie he kept around his wrist and looked around for his shirt. Found it halfway between the entrance and the bed and gave it a quick shake before tugging it over his head.

He turned back around to see Alex awake and watching him, something that looked an awful lot like dread in his eyes.

“Good morning Sunshine.”

John stepped back over to the bed with a soft smile, leaned down and kissed Alex, deep and slow and full of love, trying to chase that haunted look right out of his eyes. For good if he could.

“Sunshine?”

Alex crinkled his nose, pushed himself up a bit and adjusted the pillows, blinking up at John.

John smiled brighter and nodded.

“Brightest part of my day.”

He blushed a little as he said it. Alex huffed a soft laugh and shook his head.

“Your days must be really gloomy if you think I’m the sun.”

Alex dropped his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at John, and John could almost feel him retreating back behind those high walls of his. Desperate for one last moment, John took Alex’s face in both hands and kissed him again. Licked into his mouth with a low whine, his thumb brushing over Alex’s cheek.

Alex responded beautifully, stretching up into him, breath catching at the intensity of John’s kiss, licked open and vulnerable in his hands.

Reluctantly, John pulled back, kissed Alex’s forehead.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

Alex smiled, and John marveled at how different, how wonderful this soft, sweet Alex was compared to the hard, angry soldier he’d first been greeted with.

He ducked out of the tent, and into the main tent to begin morning rounds. The boys were already gone with food and medication, and Peggy was just finishing hanging a basket of bandages to dry.

“Sorry Pegs, I slept a little later.”

John apologized sheepishly, and she twisted around to fix him with a pointed look. Eyebrow raised, little smirk.

“Right.”

She hung the last bandage and turned fully, hands on her hips.

“John Laurens, what are you playing at?”

A few unruly curls had escaped her ponytail, and she looked exhausted.

“I… I didn’t mean it to happen, Peggy. It was an accident.”

John blushed, dropped his gaze again, and then moved to the table to gather the things he’d need for morning rounds, just to not have to look at Peggy. He could feel her glare boring holes in his back.

“An accident. You’re telling me that you tripped and fell and landed on his dick.”

And she snorted.

John turned, grinning despite himself, trying not to laugh.

“Something like that? But I didn’t- we aren’t- we haven’t-“

“-I don’t want to know the details, John, believe me. And honey, does it matter what exactly you did and did not do?”

Peggy fixed him with another look, and John shrugged, smile dropping from his face. He felt small and adrift in that moment, acutely aware of how fragile this thing that he was putting his heart on really was. It was too late now, though, his heart was long gone and he was along for the ride whether he wanted to be or not. He just had to hope his faith was well placed.

“No. No… it doesn’t matter.”

He shrugged again, helpless.

Peggy sighed and stepped over to him, wrapped her arms around him from behind and lay her cheek against his shoulder.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, John. You’re too good.”

She hugged him tight, and he covered her hands with his, and hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

-

The next three days passed in a blur. When John wasn’t deep in a healing trance with the soldier with the gut wound, he was running around on rounds, caring for their other patients, and then collapsing in a heap beside or on Alex’s cot at every spare moment he had.

At first, John read to Alex, detailed descriptions of all kinds of animals, their habits, their characteristics, their habitats, heads pressed together in the warm candle light.

By the third day, Alex was taking the book from John’s weary hands and scooting over so John could join him on the cot where John could curl up with his head on Alex’s shoulder and his hand on Alex’s hip. Alex would read to him instead, while John slipped into an exhausted half doze, energy at the end of its rope just trying to keep ahead of the infection spreading in the gut wounded soldier’s body.

He snatched moments with Alex whenever he could.

A lingering kisses to start the day, no words, just touch, until the the first sounds of the camp coming to life eased in through the thin canvas.

Back again after morning rounds to coax Alex up out of bed for a slow walk around the small tent, easing him gently back onto his feet as his chest healed and his lungs began to grow stronger.

Another quick duck into his tent for a kiss whenever he had the moment.

A longer stay midday to discover all the ways they could drive each other to the brink of distraction, kisses and touches and low murmured words into a fever pitch that left them panting and sated.

Back again in the evening before rounds just to hold him for a moment, feel his arms holding him tight, but careful.

Back again when everything was done for the day to nestle in close, his face buried in Alex’s neck, the thin blanket tugged up over their waists, the sound of Alex’s breathing lulling him into a dead sleep of utter exhaustion.

He’d have lost his mind without those moments, just trying to keep up, just trying to do enough, be enough.

Tucked into Alex’s tent with him, wrapped up in softness and affection and quiet, John felt like enough for the first time in his life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grab some kleenex, kids.

It was too good to last.

Three days of quiet in the middle of a war zone was nothing short of a miracle.

John sat on his stool beside the man with the gut wound’s cot, hands light on his distended, too hot belly. Deep in a healing trance, he was immersed in the man’s body, fighting for his life.

Light green poured out of him, channels wide open, nothing held back. He chased back the infection for the millionth time, coaxed the heart to keep beating, cleaned the poison from his bloodstream. He forced the lungs to fill with air, again, again, again.

Peggy had crashed out that morning, bled every last drop of power she had into the man and collapsed beside his bed when she’d tried to stand. Herc had dragged her off to bed and taken over for John to help the boys with mid-day rounds. The boys were working in over drive to keep up with everything, two miniature blessings moving like mad to keep everyone fed and comfortable as they could. John hadn’t made it back to Alex’s tent since he’d left it this morning. 

John had been on this stool since Peggy had collapsed, both hands on the soldier’s abdomen, giving with everything he had just to pull him through the next minute, the next hour.

He’d lost track of time hours ago.

Drank when someone pressed the edge of a cup to his lips, barely aware of the cool water going down his throat, barely aware of his own body at all.

He was green light and weightlessness, travelling through muscle and sinew and blood, reaching out with a hundred hands to try to hold everything together in a system that was failing on all fronts.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t ever going to be enough, and he’d known that, he’d known it for a while now. Peggy had too, he’d seen it in her eyes. 

But gods damned, they couldn’t not try. 

They were past the point of saving a shred of strength for new cases. They had to stop planning for the hypothetical, and deal with what was right in front of them. 

John was trying with everything he had.

It felt like trying to catch the ocean in a tea cup.

He poured his power out of himself and into the soldier, trying to make it last, trying to make it be enough. Knew he was in the final throes of a battle they’d been losing from the get go. 

John chased back fever, soothed the racing, flailing heart, scoured veins, fell further and further down into the body he was trying desperately to save from itself. 

The green light slowly faded to paler and paler green, and then white, and it still wasn’t enough, the fever spiked, the poison of infection seeped back through the veins, and still that awful wound oozed and oozed. The lungs faltered, the heart faltered, John shoved hard with everything he had left-

-heard a shout as if from very far away-

-and was ripped backwards out of the soldier’s body and into oblivion, a howl of anguish and pain that could have been his or the soldier’s the last thing in his ears before the world went white.

-

When John didn’t show up for morning rounds and Alex found himself presented with breakfast by a skinny, shy child, Alex shrugged it off. He ate without fuss and let the kid change the bandage on his chest without comment, noted the quiet, nervous efficiency the kid employed and felt for him. 

He walked himself around his tent until he was breathless and dizzy, then napped through mid-day rounds. Woke to a scant meal on his bedside table and no sign of anyone. 

Huffed to himself and thumbed through the beginning of the animal book, the part John had already read. The content wasn’t the most interesting, but he loved the book for the closeness it afforded him with John. 

He started to fret when John didn’t show up at all that afternoon, and his dinner was brought to him by none other than Hercules, who dropped the bowl on his bedside table, patted the top of his head absently, and left again without so much as a word.

Perplexed, Alex ate and set his bowl aside. 

He stared at the four walls of his tent for the rest of the evening, wondering where John was and if he’d decided he was sick of him. 

Tossed and turned uncomfortably until sleep finally claimed him. 

He woke the next morning in a foul mood and alone. 

A different kid came in, this one smaller but bolder, and again Alex made sure not to take his mood out on the child, let him change the bandage, and ate without complaint. 

Where the hell was John?

Had he finally realized that Alex wasn’t worth the time, wasn’t worth the trouble?

By the time Hercules came in at mid-day, Alex was ready to climb out of his skin. 

“Where’s John?”

He snapped the second the guard stepped into his tent. 

Hercules stopped dead, folded his arms across his chest, Alex’s lunch in one hand.

“None of your business.”

Alex scowled and pushed himself up in the cot. 

“Seriously, where the fuck is he. You’re telling me or I’m going to go find him myself.”

Hercules walked across the tent and set the bowl down on the bedside table. Alex ignored it, glaring up at the man. 

“Eat. Then maybe I’ll tell you.”

Sat down on the stool like he was planning to stay a while.

Glowering the whole time, Alex shoveled the food in, barely tasting it. Only did it because he didn’t want a repeat of Hercules force feeding him. He thrust the empty bowl back at Hercules, swallowing the last large mouthful of food.

“Okay where the fuck is he.”

Folded his arms expectantly across his chest, and glared. It was hard to be intimidating dressed only in a bed shirt, but he refused to let Hercules get away with not telling him.

Hercules watched him evenly, said nothing for a long moment that made Alex’s heart pound in his throat and his chest ache at the thought that this was it, John was bored with him now, didn’t want him anymore, had realized that he was too good for a Va’an commoner after all, and Alex was a fool. He was a fool for trusting once, and even bigger fool for doing it again.

“Look, fine, if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore that’s fine but could you just tell me?”

Alex looked away as he said it, fingernails digging half-moons into his arm, glaring stubbornly at the tent wall.

Hercules had the audacity to snort.

Alex’s head whipped back around so hard he almost gave himself whiplash. 

“He’s resting. He over did it with another patient yesterday afternoon. Get over yourself.”

Hercules stood up, grabbing the bowl from Alex, and stalked out of the tent.

All thoughts of self-pity forgotten, Alex swung himself out of bed behind Hercules, and followed him out.

“Where is he.”

Hercules dropped the bowl he was holding and swore, spinning around.

“Get the fuck back in bed what are you doing?!”

Alex stood his ground, legs splayed for balance, surprisingly steady on his feet and grateful to John for making him walk all those stupid laps around his tent. 

“Going to check on John. Tell me where he is.”

Hercules stared at Alex incredulously. Silence stretched between them, two sets of stubborn jaws and arms across chests. 

“You know you’d be a lot more intimidating if you had some god damn pants on.”

Alex didn’t flinch, didn’t even move, just glared at Hercules, unwavering.

Finally Hercules threw his hands up in the air and bent down to retrieve the dropped bowl from the dirt floor.

“Fuck this, I’m not a healer, go die of overexertion if you must. He’s in the first tent on the left once you leave the main tent.” 

Alex pushed part the larger man before he could change his mind. He was out of breath by the time he entered the main tent.

Both kids dropped what they were holding and bolted out the flap, and a woman he’d never seen before whirled around. 

“What are you doing out here?! Get back in bed!”

She scolded, hands on her hips.

“No. I’m going to see John.”

Alex left her gaping in his wake, and left the same way the boys did.

Outside, he had to pause for a moment to catch his breath and blink, eyes watering in the direct sun after so many days in his tent. He stood still, blinking, legs splayed, chest on fire. He was struck by how quiet the camp was, a few tents and not much else, a couple of guards who were staring at him in disbelief. 

The woman stepped out of the tent beside him and waved at the guards, who turned away.

“You should be in bed.”

She commented.

Alex looked over at her, then shrugged.

“No, I shouldn’t be. I should be wherever John is, making sure he’s okay.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly, and she nodded.

“Okay.”

She turned and disappeared back into the tent, voice soft, and Alex started to walk again. He crossed the short distance to John’s tent and ducked inside.

Stopped dead at the sight of John, curled up tight in his bedroll on the ground, sound asleep and looking just this side of dead. 

-

John woke with a splitting headache, full body ache, and desperately thirsty.

He groaned and rolled over, struggled blearily to sit up, and remembered everything.

“Shit…”

The bottom dropped out from under him, and he looked wildly around his tent as if somehow there’d be a different answer there than what he knew was true.

Lighted on Alex instead, seated cross legged on the corner of his pallet.

“…Alex?”

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts. 

“John. What happened to you?”

Alex’s voice was soft and concerned, brow furrowed, looking at John like it all actually meant something, like there was an end to this that wasn’t going to drag him backwards through hell first.

And John couldn’t do it. 

He couldn’t get up and drag himself back out there, give his all to his work and still have it not be enough, not even close. He’d given everything into the soldier, blown right past the limits of his healing power and into his life force and it still wasn’t even close. 

He’d have died with his hands on the soldier’s abdomen, pouring out everything he had until he was pouring out the very breath in his lungs, the beat in his heart. If he hadn’t been ripped away, he wouldn’t be waking up now. 

“John?”

Alex asked again, shifting closer, reaching out a hand like a life line for John to take. 

John shook his head, and fell apart. A heart wrenching sob ripped from his throat before he could stop it, and he sagged back down into the blankets, buried his head in the pillow and sobbed inconsolably. He was lost, drowning, not good enough, never enough. Alex should go now, before he realized, before he put John aside for someone who would be enough for him-

Alex’s hand settled gently on his shoulder, and then Alex was lifting the blankets and settling carefully into the bedroll beside John, wrapping his arms around him, and John fell into Alex like he was the only solid thing left in this world. 

He buried his face in Alex’s neck and sobbed, heart broken, defeated. 

The soldier was dead, had been even before John had been yanked out. 

John had failed.

“Baby boy, what happened?”

Alex’s voice whispering in his ear, Alex’s kiss to the side of his head, Alex’s hands stroking his back. John just cried harder, choking on sobs, the knowledge that he’d failed paired with the physical ache of overextending like he had, and the bereft feeling left behind after being yanked out of his healing was all too much. 

“Shh, hey, baby breathe. Easy, I’ve got you, I’m here.”

John curled his fists in Alex’s shirt, pressed himself closer, couldn’t breathe he was crying so hard, chest aching, on the verge of throwing up. It was all for naught. All of it. 

Through it all, Alex held him tight. Kept kissing his head, kept stroking his back, kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear until John was spent and trembling, aching all over, inside and out. 

“Lost a patient yesterday.”

He whispered into Alex’s warm, wet chest, refused to look up at him. 

“I did everything Alex. It wasn’t good enough.”

Hated the sound of his own voice, flat and defeated. 

He whimpered when Alex pulled back, tried to resist the fingers that slid beneath his chin but in the end just didn’t have the energy and let Alex tilt his head up so they were eye to eye. Fresh tears streamed down John’s cheeks, and he dropped his gaze when Alex kissed his forehead. 

“Hey. You’re doing a lot of good here, John, don’t forget it. I’m living proof.”

John shook his head, another sob ripping from his throat. 

Alex gathered him close again, and John pressed his face to Alex’s neck, sniffling as his tears soaked their skin. 

“I know it doesn’t help right now, but you are enough John. You’re more than enough. You’re incredible. You’ve saved a lot of lives here.”

Alex went quiet then, just held John tight and gave him a safe place to ride it out. 

So John did, burrowed against Alex, twined his legs between Alex’s and clung to his shirt as if his life depended on it, face tucked safely into Alex’s neck. He felt Alex pull the blanket up snug around their shoulders, and fell into a half doze of exhaustion in his arms. 

A while later, heard Alex quietly but firmly say “not now” to someone at the tent flap, lifting only his head away from John, and returning it promptly. 

John let go of Alex’s shirt, slid his hands up inside it instead, the soft skin contrasting with the worn bandages. He sighed shakily, body dragging him back down to sleep whether he liked it or not.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex finally gets laid.

John woke slowly, his face pushed into the comforting warmth of Alex’s neck. Alex’s arms were wrapped snugly around him and he was pressed tight against him like he was trying to climb inside him. The contact went a long way to easing the empty ache in his chest. He huffed a soft breath against Alex’s neck and nuzzled into him, hoping maybe if he just hid here long enough, everything would turn out okay when he finally raised his head. 

“You awake, John?”

Alex’s voice was kind and gentle in his ears, and it brushed up against the soft barrier of sleep he still held between himself and the real world. 

John nodded, murmured soft appreciation when Alex’s hand smoothed down his back, the touch slow and sure. 

“How’re you feeling?”

It felt distinctly odd to be on the other end of that question. 

John pulled back enough to blink sleepily at Alex in the early morning light, filtered through the thick canvas of his tent. The bedroll was rumpled, blanket rucked halfway up their bodies. Most of Alex’s braid had fallen out, dark hair mussed and spread across the pillow, clad in only the worn bandage. 

John’s face felt tight and gritty from crying, the heavy weight of exhaustion still deep in his bones. 

“Better.”

Not completely. But better.

“Good. Can you have some water? Peggy said you should.”

Alex cupped John’s cheek and John leaned into the touch. Felt needy, felt hollow. He nodded, mind too fuzzy to process quickly, glad he had Alex here with him. He couldn’t remember ever taking so long to bounce back after an intense healing, but then…

He’d never done what he’d done, either. 

Guilt snagged at his heart and raked long claws down the insides of that gaping hollow inside him. 

Alex sat up slowly, and John thought for a moment he might die then and there, panic at the lack of contact overwhelming for a moment. He whimpered, clutching at Alex’s arm. 

Alex froze, twisted back around to smooth his hand over John’s hair.

“I’m going nowhere, just getting your water.”

John nodded, pushed himself up on an elbow and tried to grab hold of the intense emotions racing through him. It was always hard after a difficult healing, unspeakably so when a patient was lost… 

More so, when he didn’t get to disconnect properly, and in the midst of all this… 

At school there had been mindhealers on hand to help when this occurred, but out here in the real world, in the field, no such luck. 

Alex grabbed the cup of water and turned back around, held it to John’s lips for John to drink, and John felt himself blush as he did, eyes meeting Alex’s over the edge of the cup. The tables had turned, and it was stirring something in John that he’d never felt before, warm and fuzzy and yearning so strong it nearly obliterated everything else. 

Alex moved the cup away and John leaned after it for a moment, just needed to be touched, needed to be wrapped up in something warm and real and grounding to offset the empty ache inside. 

“Hungry?”

Alex was watching him close, eye as keen as John’s own when it came to caring for patients. John shook his head, wasn’t quite there yet even if he knew he should. 

“One berry?”

Alex held up a deep red berry between his fingers. 

“Please, for me?”

Well.

How could he possibly say no to that, and the little smile on Alex’s face, and how soft and sweet he was now, not a trace of the anger he’d worn like armour only a couple short weeks ago. 

John nodded, and blushed all over again when Alex held the berry to his lips, popped it into his mouth with careful fingers. The sweet flavour burst over his tongue, and in the end he let Alex feed him three more, the soft brush of Alex’s fingers over his berry stained lips only serving to stoke that yearning higher and higher. 

He turned his head away at the fifth berry, and lay back down, head on the lumpy pillow. 

“What do you need, baby?”

Alex lay back down facing him, and John curled close again, nosed under Alex’s chin and breathed in the comforting smell of him.

“You.”

John tipped his chin up, nose bumping against the scruff of Alex’s facial hair. 

Alex pulled back, gave him a long look, fingers stroking John’s cheek. 

John felt raw, every nerve ending exposed, wide open beneath Alex’s dark stare. 

“Kiss me, please.”

His voice broke a little, rough with need, and he was sure he would die if Alex said no. 

“Are you sure John?”

Alex’s brow furrowed with concern, and John couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand the raw feeling inside for one moment longer, so he grabbed Alex’s chin and lurched up to kiss him, desperate, taking. Alex made a muffled ‘mph’ against John, mouth tight. 

John slid his hand up Alex’s back, pressed closer, stroked his tongue over Alex’s lips until he softened and parted for John. Moaning softly, John licked into Alex’s mouth, tongues tangling, losing himself in the heat of the kiss and the way Alex melted against him despite his best intentions. 

He knew he was only putting a bandage over a wound, but desperate times called for desperate measures and it was better than sitting here choking on emptiness. 

So he dug his fingers into Alex’s hair and pulled what was left of the braid apart in his hand, wound his fingers through and tugged hard at the silky black strands. Felt Alex gasp into his mouth and arched into the shiver it sent down his spine. 

Still, he needed more. 

Desperate, needy, aching and burning with yearning, John slid his hand around to Alex’s chest over the worn fabric of the bandage, went to push, and remembered himself at the last second. 

Pulled back as thought shocked. 

“Oh shit Alex I’m so fucking sorry! How’s your chest? Are you okay?! I shouldn’t have just-“

He buried his head in his hands, struggling against tears, overwhelmed and oversensitive. 

Flinched when Alex pulled him close again. 

“I’m fine. I’d have said if you were hurting me.”

John nestled close again, lowered his trembling hands from his face and tucked his arm around Alex’s belly again. 

“Sorry.”

He whispered, and went to hide his face in Alex’s neck again, only to be stopped by a gentle hand under his chin. 

“Don’t be. Just… maybe you should rest some more, and then we can do whatever you want, okay?”

Alex kissed him softly, slow and lingering, his tongue stroking into John’s mouth and licking away John’s worry until the edges of the emptiness inside him softened and blurred and the ache receded into something more like normal, something he could breathe around. 

“Rest baby. I’ll be right here when you wake.”

John nodded, tucked his head back beneath Alex’s chin and sighed, tension melting away, held safe and secure in Alex’s arms. He drifted slowly back into sleep, Alex’s hand stroking down his spine over and over and over, slow rhythm that lulled John back under.

-

When John woke again, he felt clearer, calmer. The ache of emptiness and guilt was duller, easier to swallow around now. 

Alex was lying on his back, reading with the book held above his head, eyes squinted in the poor lighting. He closed it and put it down the second John shifted. 

“Hey.”

Small smile, and he was rolling onto his side to face John, arm draping loosely over John’s waist, and John could almost have forgotten for a moment that they were in the middle of a forgotten corner of a war. His heart swelled, and beneath the pain he felt safe, felt seen, felt loved. He knew how dangerous that was in the middle of a war, but how could he help it?

“What do you need?”

That question again, soft, easy, giving John permission to be selfish, to take care of his own needs first. 

It was startlingly liberating.

“You.”

This time, when he stretched up to kiss Alex, Alex didn’t resist. 

John melted into him, lips parting for Alex’s tongue, heart beating faster. He almost couldn’t believe that Alex was real, that he’d managed to find such softness in the middle of a war, how someone so incredible could be here holding him, patiently nursing him back from his own rash choices. 

Alex’s hand stroked down his back again, cupped his ass and tugged him closer, and John moaned softly into his mouth. 

He could float away on this, warm fuzzy haze in his head, all wrapped up in Alex’s touch, Alex’s kiss, Alex’s soft moan in his ear…

John let his hand skate down Alex’s back, cupped his ass and squeezed, tugged him closer. He rolled his hips up against Alex’s, felt himself starting to grow hard and whimpered from want. He pulled back from the kiss and nosed Alex’s chin up, kissed down his neck, sucked a deep purple mark into the delicate flesh there.

“Fuck, John…”

Alex breathed, sending another shiver of delight through John’s body. 

John nipped at Alex’s collar bone, worried the skin with his tongue. Alex tasted faintly of sweat and dust, but his skin was warm under John’s mouth, and he kissed over to the hollow at the base of Alex’s throat and felt him swallow hard, throat fluttering beneath his lips. 

He stroked his hand over Alex’s hip and found his hardening cock, curled his fingers around it –why didn’t Alex have any pants on?- and gave him a few loose, teasing strokes. Alex groaned under the attention, hips pushing into John’s hand.

“Ahh, John, fuck. Feels good.”

Alex’s voice, breathy and high with want had lust curling tight in John’s belly. 

“Fuck me, please, Alex.”

He kissed back up Alex’s neck as he spoke, desperate need to feel something stronger than grief.

He could have killed somebody when Alex pulled back. Mouth open, cheeks flushed with need, John stared up at Alex, could have gotten lost in that deep, appraising gaze. 

“Get naked, baby boy.”

Alex leaned in and kissed John, long and deep, and John hurried out of his breeches, squirming in the bedroll to get them down over his hips and kick them off his ankles. He broke the kiss to yank his shirt off over his head, and pressed close to Alex again, body heated, undone and thrumming with need. 

“On your belly.”

Alex kissed John’s ear, nipped at his ear lobe, and whispered the instruction on a kiss. 

John complied, flipping onto his front, and sighed with relief when Alex settled over him. He knew Alex had been right not to do this earlier, when he’d still been so upset. He knew he probably still wasn’t in the right frame of mind, but he didn’t care, he needed to feel the closeness, the connection, to know he wasn’t alone and drowning in this ocean of loss and pain. 

Alex kissed down John’s spine, one hand stroking his side, and John moaned soft appreciation, head on the pillow, hyper aware of every puff of breath from Alex’s nose over his back, skin lighting up on fire with need where Alex’s mouth trailed down, down, down to the cleft of his ass. Paused. His hand stroked over one of John’s cheeks, gripped and gave a gentle squeeze that pushed John’s hips into the bedroll, cock rubbing over the tangled blanket. 

“Can I?”

Alex breathed, and John arched his hips back, squirmed and panted and couldn’t believe that Alex was actually stopping to ask.

“Please, Alex please!”

He sobbed, body tight with anticipation, just needed everything so much and if he had to wait a moment longer-

Alex’s hands spread his cheeks apart and Alex’s tongue licked a wet stripe of heat right from John’s balls to the top of his crack that had John crying out wordlessly and driving his hips into the blankets. 

Alex pressed a wet kiss to John’s lower back, and licked back down, achingly slow, tongue pointed. John bunched the pillow up beneath his head, fingers digging in and clinging for dear life, sure Alex was going to drive him to distraction. 

Alex’s tongue circled his rim delicately, and then stroked over the tight muscle, over and over and over, and John felt like he would fly into a million tiny pieces it felt so good.

“Fuck fuck fuck Alex!”

He whimpered, blankets damp with precome beneath him. He was caught between wanting to drive back into Alex’s mouth, and wanting to fuck his cock into the rumpled blankets until he came just from this. 

Alex’s only response was a sucking kiss right over John’s hole that had him crying out again, cock twitching in the sheets. 

Finally, finally Alex’s tongue wriggled inside him, licked him open until he was fucking him with his tongue. John gasped and writhed in the sheets, desperate for more more more, cock aching. Need overrode everything else, drove the sorrow from his mind, filled the empty ache inside him with heat.

He inhaled sharply when Alex’s wet finger pressed in alongside his tongue, pumped in and out with it, sweet rhythm that felt so, so good. Then a second finger, stretching and stroking until they brushed up over John’s prostate and had him crying out all over again.

“Alex!”

It was so good, too good, but he couldn’t come like this, untouched, and he squirmed in the sheets, panting and desperate, every inch of him on fire with want. 

Alex’s free hand smoothed slow over his back, fingers still stroking inside, slow, deliberate, making John choke on his own cries, whole body tight. 

“Gods you’re so beautiful John, so tight and hot on my fingers, are you ready for my cock baby?”

Alex’s voice, hot against his hole, fingers hooking in and rubbing hard against his prostate until John’s cock was twitching, precome smeared into the blankets beneath him. 

“Fuck, yes, yes Alex please, need you, need your cock.”

John panted, and he could have cried when Alex carefully withdrew his fingers, pressed one last sucking kiss to his hole, tongue flickering over the swollen flesh. 

“Oil?”

Alex drove his tongue back in, licked into John over and over and over so that he couldn’t answer, unable to check the whimpers and moans that spilled from his lips. 

Finally, he lifted his mouth and John could breathe again. 

“It’s-“

Muffled a yell by stuffing his face into the bunched up pillow when Alex dragged his tongue back across the sensitive flesh.

“-over there!”

John gestured wildly with one hand, face pressed into the pillow, body throbbing with need. 

Alex licked him again, and John sobbed into the pillow, open mouthed, achingly desperate.

“Alex please!”

Alex licked him one last time, slow and wet, dipped his tongue back inside and fucked it in and out, once, twice, three times, before pulling away. 

Untouched, John slumped to the bed, legs spread, and rutted weakly into the wet blankets. 

“Over, baby boy.”

Alex tapped at his hip, and John rolled, made room for Alex on the bedroll again. 

“I want you to ride me, want to watch you on my cock instead of my fingers this time, so pretty above me…”

Alex’s hand was on his cock, slick and shiny with oil, stroking himself slow and tight. His cock was flushed and thick, dark against Alex’s fingers. 

John moaned at the sight, dragged himself up onto his hands and knees and leaned over to kiss Alex, sloppy and needy, as he swung his leg over Alex’s hips.

“That’s it, shit, look at you.”

Alex murmured, and John looked down at his bandaged chest, blushing, suddenly shy as he lowered himself onto Alex’s cock. He gasped as the head caught on his rim and planted both hands on Alex’s stomach, awkward placing but he couldn’t very well put them on his chest. 

“Alex, Alex.”

John panted the soldier’s name as he sank down onto him, slow both to savour the moment and to let his body accommodate the stretch. He was trembling by the time Alex’s cock was fully seated inside him, cock dripping onto Alex’s belly. 

“Look at me baby, gods, you’re so incredible, you’re so perfect.”

Alex’s hand stroked up John’s thigh, and as John started to move, he looked up, fell into Alex’s eyes and the depth of openness and affection he found there. Felt, for the second time in his life, like he was enough. In the midst of all this chaos and heartache, in the midst of all the ways he just couldn’t stretch himself far enough, right here, right now, he felt like enough. 

It was exactly what he’d needed. 

He let his head fall back, body arched as he rode Alex’s cock, the slick sounds of their bodies moving together heavy in his ears. Alex’s moans and pants making his cock twitch.

“Fuck, baby, want to feel you come with my cock deep in your ass.”

Alex’s hand fisted John’s cock, stroked him with tight, quick strokes that had John clenching down around Alex’s cock and riding him faster, could already feel the orgasm building inside him. 

“Alex, Alex, gonna come.”

John couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it, didn’t even want to try. He ground down hard onto Alex’s cock, hot ropes of come spilling over Alex’s hand and onto his stomach, his hole pulsing around Alex’s cock. 

“Fuuuuuuck, John!”

Alex came only a moment later, cock buried deep in John’s ass, and John panted and moaned at the incredible feeling of being filled up. 

He shifted off of Alex with an obscene sound, and dropped boneless to the bedroll beside Alex, spent and panting, whole body trembling. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he swallowed them back, didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

“Baby, you’re alright.”

Alex reached over, tugged John close and held him tight. Bent to kiss him deep and slow until John was melting all over again, liquid and relaxed in Alex’s arms.


	12. Chapter 12

Changing Alex’s bandage the following morning did a lot to restore John’s equilibrium. 

Every touch felt so poignant after the past couple of days spent clinging to Alex through the worst of all his pain and anguish. He unwound the bandage carefully, washed the skin underneath, breath held as though every touch was brand new all over again. They sat face to face in the rumpled bedroll, cross legged and knee to knee. John had given Alex some breeches, so they were both dressed from the waist down, slowly preparing to face the world again. 

John spread the strong smelling salve over the healing wound, the green paste sticky and thick on his fingers. He wiped his fingers off on the damp piece of cloth he’d cleaned Alex’s chest with, and gathered up the fresh bandage. Leaned forward to wrap it around Alex’s torso and glanced up through his lashes. 

Froze.

Alex was watching him with his mouth slightly open, barely breathing, something heavy and heated in his dark eyes. John’s breath hitched in his throat and without even thinking, he tipped his chin up and closed the distance, catching Alex’s parted lips in a possessive kiss. He licked into Alex’s mouth right away, tasted the berries they’d shared for breakfast as he stroked across Alex’s tongue. 

Alex moaned low in his throat, brought a hand up to cup John’s face and John leaned in, kissed deeper, then broke the kiss to nudge Alex’s chin up and out of the way. Latched onto the soft skin under his jaw and sucked a second deep purple bruise into his olive skin. Marked Alex as his for all the world to see and burned hot and bright at the sight of it, stark against Alex’s skin, and the knowledge that he’d been the one to put it there. 

Alex shivered and whined, breath catching, and John had to force himself back, take a steadying breath. He resumed wrapping Alex’s chest, eyes downcast and focussed on what he was doing. 

“John…”

Alex said his name low, promise and desire lacing the short word, and for the first time in all his life, John’s name was his favourite sound. When it came like that, falling off Alex’s lips like a prayer, John wanted to hear it again and again and again. 

“Not now baby girl. I have to get back to work.”

John murmured. He tugged the end of the bandage gently tight and tucked the ends in, secured. He pulled back and surveyed his work, hummed in satisfaction, and stood up off the bedroll before he could change his mind. 

“Jooohhhhnnnn!”

Alex fell backwards with a whine, squirmed in the bedroll half-dressed and desperate looking, and it was almost enough to drag John right back down with him. Guilt at leaving Peggy alone for as long as he already had was the only thing that kept him on his feet.

“No baby. You can wait.”

John turned away, had to or he never would, and pulled a shirt over his head. Pulled his hair up into a pony tail. 

Alex’s arms slid around his waist and he jumped.

“Shit I didn’t even hear you get up!”

He leaned back against Alex carefully, mindful of his wound, and hummed softly in appreciation when Alex pressed a kiss to the side of his head. 

“Being sneaky is part of my job description.”

Alex murmured, voice low in John’s ear, a hint of something dangerous that made John’s stomach twist pleasantly. He closed his eyes, let Alex hold him tight for a moment, taking this moment of stillness before he plunged head first back into the chaos. 

Alex’s hand snuck downwards, skimmed over John’s crock and then pressed down.

John groaned, hips arching into the touch, and swatted Alex’s hand away.

“Stop it.”

“No.”

Alex moved his hand back, mouthed at John’s neck, his other hand sliding up under John’s shirt. John moaned, melted into the touches for a split second before batting Alex’s hands away again, and wriggled out of his grasp. 

Alex reached for him again, and John snagged him by the wrists, laughing hard and holding on tight. 

It felt good to laugh.

He couldn’t remember the last time.

Alex was grinning at him, cheeky and bright, and John’s heart swelled and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He shook his head and moved around behind Alex, pinning his hands behind his back. 

“No, Alex. Later. Now out!”

John didn’t miss the way Alex’s breath hitched when John had tugged his hands behind his back and held them there. Filed that thought away for later, when Alex was all healed and they could take their time, spend all day enveloped in each other-

-froze at the crushing realization that he was dreaming of a future where there almost certainly would never be one.

Swallowed the crushing wave of grief that made him sway for a moment, held it tight in his heart, and tried to push it down. 

There would be time enough for that later.

He swallowed hard, gave Alex’s hair a playful tug, and frog marched him out of the tent. 

“You might want to let me go, so no one thinks I’m actually resisting you.”

Alex deadpanned, quiet and cooperative in John’s restraints. 

“Not that I am not enjoying this immensely.”

He had to go and add, making John’s face burn with embarrassment and arousal both. John let go of Alex’s hands and stepped away, walked back into the healers tents beside him but not touching him. The tiny distance between them felt gaping after the impossible closeness they’d shared. 

Alex tossed him a small smile and stepped away.

“I’ll go hang out in my tent, I know the way.”

And he was gone, disappearing through the flap into the inner tents, leaving John standing in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the main tent, Gideon and Jothan racing around with arm loads of bandages and food, in and out to tend to patients and keep up with the chores. Guilt yanked at John’s heart and he turned to Peggy.

“Where are we at?”

Instead of answering, she whirled around and slapped him across the face.

Jothan and Gideon froze mid step. A bandage fell from Gideon’s huge armful and unrolled across the tent floor. 

Peggy grabbed John by the shoulders and hauled him into a tight hug, and guilt took a giant bite out of his heart.

“Don’t you ever do that again you god damn fool! You should be- you have absolutely no right to still be standing here you asshole! If Herc had been even a moment later… John you reckless idiot!”

John hugged her back, held her close while her shoulders shook and she battled for control over herself, no tears shed, but a deep, shaking breath and then she straightened up. 

“I’m sorry, Peggy.”

What else could he say?

She gave a small smile and raised one shoulder in a shrug. She understood in a way only another healer could.

“Me too.”

They shared a long look, and then Peggy was turning, gathering her things for morning rounds, and getting ready for the day. She began talking as she worked, filling John in on everything that he’d missed. 

“Still no new patients – I’m not sure what’s going on there but I asked Herc to see if he could find anything out from the other guards, so hopefully we hear some news soon. There hasn’t been any word from the front at all.”

John began gathering his supplies, bandages and salves and medication, settling it all on an ornate tray that was probably part of somebody’s tea set in peaceful days. 

“The two soldiers with broken legs are both doing well, we should be able to get them both up and started walking a bit soon. The one with the arm wound is the same, and the one with the head wound still hasn’t woken up. Everyone else is the same. We need to be even more careful with food, John. The rations are getting slimmer.”

There was a hitch of worry in her voice that John wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t know her so well, and it gnawed at his bones too.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of work, bandage changes and medication administrations, reassuring the patients that still remained and making sure everyone was still comfortable. He managed to be the one to bring Alex his lunch, smiled at the sight of him sitting on the cot, knees up, scratching away at a scrap of parchment with a small sliver of charcoal. His hair was still loose, falling in a soft, dark wave over his shoulder as he wrote like a man possessed. 

He didn’t look up when John entered, absorbed in whatever it was he was writing, so John set the food on the bedside table and dropped a soft kiss on the top of Alex’s head. 

Alex made a soft sound of acknowledgement, and didn’t so much as look up. 

John left him to it, too busy to dwell on it. 

The afternoon was as much a blur as the morning. Together with Peggy and the boys, they got all of the bandages washed, new herbal pastes mixed up, everything cleaned and scrubbed and washed. 

By the end of evening rounds, John was beyond exhausted, but it felt good to do something useful. He ducked into Alex’s tent and gently pried the charcoal from Alex’s frantically scribbling hand. 

Alex made an undignified sound of protest, and only then did he look up, blinking blearily at John in surprise. 

“Hi. Where’d you find paper and charcoal? Are you staying here tonight, or coming back to my tent?”

John wasn’t sure what Alex wanted, but he knew what he was hoping for. 

His heart warmed when Alex smiled and stood up, setting the paper aside and stretching. He set the charcoal down beside the paper so Alex could find it again tomorrow, and stepped in for a soft kiss. 

“I bribed Gideon, and I’m coming back to your tent.”

Alex kissed him again, slower, deeper, and John melted, sighed, thanked whatever gods were listening that he’d been given this gift. 

“Let’s go, then.”

Twined their hands together and led Alex back to his tent where they fell into the bedroll, limbs tangled together, kisses traded back and forth in the low light of the lantern, hands stroking over each other in lazy exploration until all the touches and kisses blurred into each other and sleep rolled over John like a tidal wave.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short

The next few days passed as if in an idyllic day dream. 

With John back to work, they quickly caught up on everything that had been lacking, and began to have stretches of free time. There were no new patients still, and no word from the front. Peggy started chasing Gideon and Jothan out of the healers tents after midday rounds, allowing the boys time to actually be children. 

Instead, they floated around the camp like little lost souls, at loose ends and unsure what to do with themselves, until they started fighting with each other and getting under foot.

It was Alex who came up with the solution. 

He was starting to walk around more, feeling stronger and steadier on his feet, and caught John chasing the boys out of the healers tent for the fifth time that day, distress plain as day on both Gideon and Jothan’s faces.

So Alex sat them down on the ground, no nonsense, and began teaching them how to read and write, using sticks to scratch in the dirt.

They blossomed under his firm but fair tutelage, soaked up the attention and the work like little sponges, and calmed under the routine. 

A quiet bond formed between the three of them, heads bent over a bare patch of dirt and working through the afternoon. 

After pausing a moment to watch them work one afternoon, Peggy had turned to John with a wistful smile, and said “he’s alright,” approval in the quiet words. 

Evenings were spent in John’s tent, just him and Alex, mouths and hands and bodies all over each other, soothing away the dirt and worry with sighs and moans.

They stayed up all night talking more than once, fingers entwined, heads together, voices honest in the dark. 

It was all too good to last.

John knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the healers tents that morning, tension thick in the air and the tight lines of Peggy’s shoulders. Herc was there, arms folded across his chest, looking ready to kill. 

John’s back tightened right away and he straightened, Alex tensing beside him. 

“What’s going on?”

He asked, untangling his hand from Alex’s and nodding his head that he should go. Alex hesitated a moment, then disappeared into the inner tents to go perch on his cot and continue frantically writing away at whatever he was writing on those scraps of parchment. 

Gideon and Jothan were nowhere to be found, presumably already starting on morning rounds. 

“John…”

Peggy held a letter in her hands, jaw tight with concealed anger. 

“What is it?”

John braced against dread, nothing good could come from the looks on his friends’ faces. Their moment of peace was over, he knew it in his bones before Peggy said another word. 

“I know why we haven’t gotten any new patients… they stopped taking prisoners, John.”

She swallowed hard, and Herc swore and looked away, body tight. John’s heart sank, thoughts flying immediately to Alex, the very last of the prisoners taken, and wondered how many others were going to die needlessly before this was all over. As if this wasn’t hard enough. As if there weren’t enough lives lost anyways. 

“Does it say why?”

John heard himself ask as if from very far away. He felt helpless, just a puppet on some strings jumping when his master said jump. And what for?

“No. But… that’s not all, John.”

Peggy folded and unfolded the letter, hands shaking, the parchment crumpling a little in her hands. 

“What else?”

What could be worse than that?

“They’re pulling me to the front along with most of the guards. They’re sending a wagon through for us…”

This was it. It was the end of the road. John could feel his world crumbling beneath him, all their hard work meaningless to anyone but them. They had worked so hard to build up this little camp, to treat the injured prisoners like human beings and offer them back whatever they could, to try to bridge the gap wherever they could…

All for naught, now.

There was just a handful of them left, prisoners who weren’t yet well enough to be taken back to the main camps, a smattering of guards, and now… just John. 

Worry reflected in Peggy’s eyes and she tucked the letter away.

“I’m taking the boys with me, John.”

John nodded, agreed with her. The writing was on the wall now, this camp in its final days of life… what happened from here on out to a small handful of guards, some useless prisoners, and one stubborn healer? 

John doubted anyone cared very much.

“Do. I don’t want them here if we get cut off…”

There was a very real possibility now that the camp could fall to enemy hands, or get cut off and forgotten. John wasn’t sure which was worse.

“I’m staying with you, John.”

Herc spoke, voice tight with anger, and John was beyond grateful for his steady friend. Herc had been with him from day one on this harebrained adventure, and John didn’t know what he would have done without him. He gave Herc a tight smile, and turned his thoughts to the day ahead.

“I… well. Thanks for telling me. We should start rounds.”

John picked up his tray, longed to bury the news under the day’s work, fury tight and hot beneath his ribs. He heard the sounds of Peggy gathering her things, and stepped into the tents to begin. 

Oh, how he dreaded telling Alex.


	14. Chapter 14

Alex was lost in his words, writing away as fast as he could, fingers cramping around the small lump of charcoal in his hand. Worry sat in the back of his mind, shoulders tense, but he ignored it, focussed on what he was doing. 

For him, the mornings were a moment of blissful quiet where he could retreat into himself, jot down all of his thoughts on the economy back home and what could be done to fix it, clarity found in being far away.

He wrote until he filled up all the remaining parchment scraps, then stacked them on the bedside table, flexing his blackened, cramping hand. If only he had more… there wasn’t nearly enough around here, so many more things he needed to write down, but he knew Jothan and Gideon had searched the camp high and low. If there was a scrap to be found, Alex had already written all over it. 

“Alex?”

John appeared in the doorway and Alex looked up with a smile at the sound of his voice-

-the smile immediately dropped from his face at the way John was looking at him.

“What happened?”

He sat up, wiped his charcoal covered fingers on a scrap of cloth, wondering what news they’d received that made John look ready to kill and reluctant to talk.

“Alex… I…”

John walked over and sat on the cot, looked down at his hands instead of at Alex. 

Dread filled Alex’s stomach and he leaned forward, placing a hand on John’s shoulder, concern weighing heavy. 

“What is it, John?”  
John looked up at him finally, reluctance in his gaze, and he sighed. Hesitated.

“Alex…”

“Just tell me, John.”

There was another beat of hesitation. Alex’s heart beat in his throat, caught between need to know and fleeting desire for everything to stay exactly as it was. They’d found something good, gods damn it all. He’d finally found a moment of peace-

“You were the last prisoner taken alive. The Lindel army stopped taking prisoners right after you. They’re shutting this camp down – Peggy and most of the guard leave with the next ration wagon.”

John blurted it out in a rush, and Alex felt like he’d been shot all over again. 

“What?!”

He pulled his hand back as if he’d been stung, and jumped off the cot. Too fast, had to steady himself against the bedside table until his vision cleared, then gathered up the stack of wrinkled parchments. 

“Alex where are you going?”

John stood, blocking Alex from the tent flap. 

Alex tried to step around him, only to have John catch him by the shoulders and hold him in place.

“Let me go! I have to go back, I have to help!”

How could they do this? Wasn’t it bad enough already? Weren’t they already at enough of an advantage, weren’t they winning? Why did they have to add more bloodshed? 

Alex had lingered here too long. It was time to get back to the field, to his friends and his cause, get the tide turned around, help win this war once and for all-

But John wouldn’t let him go, just shook his head, tight lipped, and backed him up further into the tent. 

“No, Alex.”

He spoke quietly, and rage ignited in Alex’s bones.

“What the fuck do you mean, no?!”

He tried to twist out of John’s grasp, but John was bigger and stronger and had the advantage of not having taken an arrow to the chest mere weeks ago. 

“I can’t let you leave.”

There was something hard and firm in John’s voice that made Alex freeze. Long moment of absolute stillness, and Alex yanked from John’s grasp and paced the length of the tent. Retreated behind the walls he’d allowed John to coax him over.

“That’s right. I’m a prisoner here. It was fun pretending, I guess, but I shouldn’t have forgotten my place.”

Alex’s voice was flat. He’d allowed himself to be lulled into complacency by how open John was, how patient and kind and vulnerable, how much he actually seemed to care…

Until it came right down to it.

He was still the enemy.

He was still standing on the wrong side of a war that Alex’s people were losing. No matter how good and kind and wonderful he was, he was still the enemy and hadn’t Alex already made this mistake once?

“Alex-“

John stepped towards him, reached out a hand. 

Alex stepped away. 

“Don’t touch me John.”

John dropped his hand, looking for all the world like Alex had just slapped him, but Alex just took another step back, shaking his head. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways! You can’t play like you actually care, like you actually give a shit about me for me, and then turn around and tell me I have no choice because I’m a prisoner here John! My people are dying out there and I need to go!”

Alex’s hands shook around his papers, the only thing in this world he could call his anymore. He didn’t even own the clothes on his back, didn’t even have boots on his feet. 

“Alex. You can’t leave. Not because I don’t care about you. You think I like that you’re a prisoner here? That you’re not choosing to stay here with me out of your own free will? That I’ll lose you the second the war ends?”

Alex opened his mouth to interrupt and stopped short when John held up a hand.

“No, shut up Alex let me talk. If you try to leave the guards will shoot you and kill you. It has nothing to do with me. How would you get back anyways? There’s an army between you and your people. You have no shoes. You have no directions. You still have a hole in your chest for fucks sake, you’ll die out there Alex and I can’t let you walk off to your death!”

“I don’t care let me go!”

Alex tried to duck around John again, only to be grabbed by the shoulders and hauled back, chest wound be damned. Pain seared hot and red across his vision and he went weak for a moment, gasping for breath, John’s hands the only thing keeping him upright.

“I care. I’m not letting you go Alex.”

John’s voice, firm and kind, cutting through everything. 

Alex let John push him back to sit on the cot, breath like fire in his lungs. 

“How can you say that and still wear that uniform?”

Alex whispered between breaths, head in his hand, drowning and helpless. He hated not knowing what was happening out there, hated that the ante had been upped and he wasn’t there to do his part. 

“I’m a healer, Alex. I can’t fight, all I can do is give fair treatment to everyone who crosses my path no matter who they are. That’s all I can do, and don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t know it’s not enough. But it’s all I’ve got, Alex. I can’t let you go because I can’t see you killed because I want you to survive this damn war so that we can find each other again once it’s all over because I’m falling in love with you, you idiot!”

Alex felt like he’d been doused in ice.

He stared at John, silence stretching between them, two sides of a chasm they might never be able to cross. 

“What did you just say?”

Alex choked out, fear and hurt and heartbreak tugging him apart from the inside out. Hadn’t he been here before? Hadn’t he made this mistake once already?

John reached out, took Alex’s shaking hands and held them tight. 

“I’m falling in love with you Alex.”

He repeated. Quiet, earnest.

Alex couldn’t see past his fear.

“Get out.”

He yanked his hands back from John.

“Alex-“

“Out!”

Alex couldn’t breathe under the fear, couldn’t climb past it, only knew that no one spoke those words and then stayed. 

So it was no surprise when John got up and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Alex. :<


	15. Chapter 15

Alex was left alone.

Just like every time before. 

He sat in the middle of the cot, knowing that John was right, knowing that he couldn’t just march out of here. Knowing, now that he’d cooled off, that he was being unreasonable.

Still.

Could he really sit here knowing that when it all came down to it, they were still on separate sides? That when it came down to it… no one who loved him ever stayed.

He stood up after a long moment when it became clear that John wasn’t coming back. Stuck the stack of parchment in the waist of John’s breeches, secured around his hips with a piece of twine they’d found so that they stopped falling down. Took a deep breath, stopped.

Ripped a corner off of one of the pieces of parchment, scrawled “I’m sorry. I’ll come find you again some day,” on it with the last of the charcoal. 

And maybe, someday, he really would.

Set it down on the bedside table and pulled back the tent flap-

-was shoved backwards so rudely that he fell over and landed on his ass in the dirt, chest wound smarting from where the heel of a hand had smacked into it so precisely it had to have been on purpose. 

“Don’t even fucking think about it you miserable coward.”

Hercules’ voice, no nonsense. 

Alex gasped for breath, hand over his chest, and Hercules just stood there and watched him. 

“Running head first into certain death for no good reason doesn’t make you a hero, it just makes you a fool.”

Alex glared up at Hercules who blocked the entrance far more effectively than John ever could have, still too out of breath to respond, the look in Hercules’ eyes nothing but scorn. 

“Don’t try it again.”

Hercules turned, the tent flap fell closed, and Alex was left alone. 

Trapped.

A prisoner.

He stayed where he was for a long time, catching his breath, the ache in his chest fading to normal levels. 

Finally, he moved from the floor back onto the cot, sat there with his arms around his knees and restless energy racketing around in his chest. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t stay. 

John didn’t want him anymore.

Why would he, after the things Alex had said?

He’d done it to himself this time, and the realization crashed over him like a wave and he couldn’t breathe from the force of it. John was gone, he wasn’t coming back, because Alex had chased him away himself. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there before there was motion at the tent flap, soft voices too low for him to hear, and then the flap pushed back and hope crested in Alex’s chest-

And Peggy walked in. 

Alex’s heart sank. It was really, truly over. He sighed, and looked down at the cot, listened to the sound of Peggy setting a bowl down on the bedside table. She paused for a moment, then left without a word.

It started to rain sometime after Peggy had gone, gentle at first, then harder and harder until it was pounding the canvas, threatening to strip the tents from their poles. 

Alex tried to breathe, tried to ignore the driving rain outside by picking up John’s book and flipping through it. He couldn’t focus enough to read any of the words, just looked at the detailed anatomical drawings of different animals, trying to get his mind on anything but the rain and wind outside. 

A streak of lightning lit the night up in stark white light, and was followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder that made Alex yelp and jump, hand flying out to the side. 

He knocked the lantern off the table and it went out. 

Plunged into darkness, Alex’s heart stopped and he forgot how to breathe. Panic gripped him by the throat and held on tight. 

A second peal of thunder had him diving off the cot and shoving himself beneath it, shaking with fear. He covered his head with his hands and curled up tight, the cool dirt beneath him and the cot above him pressing him tight between them. He was trapped and alone and a child again, hurricane tearing his home to pieces, water everywhere, the sky and ocean taking and taking and taking. 

-

John was putting the last of the linens away when the rain started, and Peggy walked into the main tent. 

“John.”

He looked up, looked at the furrow of worry in Peggy’s forehead and stopped what he was doing. 

“You need to go talk to him.”

Pain lanced through John’s heart and he shook his head, turned away. Alex had made it very clear how much he wanted John around. 

“No.”

He folded the last linen and tucked it into its spot. Day done. He dreaded going back to his tent to spend the night alone, Alex’s scent all over his pillow and blankets, memories of all the moments they’d shared heavy in the air. 

He picked up a stray cloth and started wiping down the already spotless table top, instead.

“John… I don’t know what was said, but you didn’t see the way he looked when I went into his tent and he saw it was me and not you.”

Peggy’s voice was soft and she plucked the cloth from his hands and tossed it at the dirty linen basket. 

“I don’t care, he doesn’t want me there Peggy.”

John turned away again, started straightening bottles on the table just to have something to do, tears blurring his vision, the wounds Alex’s words had left smarting. 

“Yes he does. I don’t care what he said, he does. You didn’t see him, John.”

She reached out and touched his shoulder gently and he shrugged her off.

“If that’s true he can come tell me himself.”

He heard her sigh behind him as he needlessly arranged and rearranged the bottles. 

“You told Herc not to let him leave his tent, remember?”

John didn’t respond, jaw clenched tight around pain and loss. He shook his head.

“No, Peggy. I’m done.”

He gave and gave and gave and here he was at the end of his rope, his hard work going up in smoke and the man he loved pushing him away. All of his try, all of his heart was for nothing. He would have been in the same spot with less pain if he’d just held something of himself back. 

He heard the sad sound Peggy made, and ignored it.

“Oh John. I really think you should give it one more try. What’s to lose, at this point?”

He didn’t turn, just rearranged the bottles one more time until he heard her leave, then sat down heavy at the table, his head dropping into his hands. 

Herc wandered in a while later, just as the rain really began to come down. 

“Well. Your boy’s being good, I think it’s safe to leave him over night.”

John nodded dumbly, staring blankly at the table top in front of him. He heard Herc come around and place a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“Talk to him, John. These are tough times for us all, take the chance to try to work it out while you’ve got it.”

John shook his head, didn’t look up, just wanted to sit here in silence until he worked up the courage to go back to his tent.

“Or we can kill him. No one would know it didn’t happen organically.”

John shook his head again, and Herc sighed and left him alone.

Quiet stretched across the main tent, lantern flickering. The rain picked up and lightning streaked across the sky. John jumped as a particularly violent thunderclap shook the whole world, and then the heavens truly opened up.

Shit. 

He stood up with a sigh and picked up the lantern, then ducked into the tent row, wanted to make sure everyone was still alright. 

Tent after tent he poked his head in, patients either asleep or resting, everything fine. 

He paused outside Alex’s tent. 

Was tempted just to leave him…

But there was no lantern light from inside. Frowning, John stuck his head in. it was pitch black, the noise from the storm louder here on the end of the tent row. He held the lantern up, and his heart sank. 

Alex was gone. 

All of his scraps of parchment were scattered across the room, save one on the bedside table. Frowning deeper – would Alex have left without it? And how had he gotten out without passing John in the main tent? 

He walked over to the bedside table and picked up the scrap there. 

_“I’m sorry. I’ll come find you again someday,”_

So he had left.

John’s heart sank like a stone. He should never have walked out on Alex, not after delivering such news…

It was too late now. 

Too late to rebuild that bridge, to ask for one more chance, to try one more time. Alex was gone and John had let him go without any fight at all. 

He swallowed hard against tears, slipped the paper in his pocket, proof that Alex hadn’t meant the hateful things he’d said. 

Turned to leave, ready to give up, to stop fighting this fight, to go home and be good and stop pushing the envelope.

Another crack of lightning lit the sky, followed by a deep roll of thunder. 

At the end of it all, a terrified whimper.

John froze. 

He turned back around, cocked his head and listened hard. 

There it was again, broken and terrified. 

“Alex?”

John dropped down to his knees and bent low, and swore when he saw Alex, wedged under the cot, wide eyed with terror. 

All of the anger and hurt went out like a light.

John left the lantern where it was and lay down on his stomach, working himself under the cot.

“Hey, hey. Alex it’s okay, it’s just a storm. I’m here.”

They could deal with the hurt later. The note in John’s pocket was proof enough that there was something worth saving here, and so he reached out carefully and drew Alex into his arms, held him tight as he shivered and shook, tears soaking into John’s shirt. 

“Shh baby girl, I have you. I only left cause you told me too but I’m back now. It’s okay.”

He rubbed Alex’s back, kept whispering gentle words into his ear. Swayed with sorrow every time thunder cracked across the sky and Alex flinched and yelped in his arms. John held Alex through it all, shoulder cramped from their awkward position, damp dirt smell in his nose, and his neck itchy where Alex's tears soaked his skin. But Alex was so afraid, small and shaking in John's arms, that he couldn't bear to move.

Eventually, the storm subsided and Alex relaxed slowly in his arms, still shaking like a leaf, but quieter. 

“John?”

He whispered into John’s chest, voice low and quiet. 

“Shh, it’s okay. I think the storm’s done, want to get in bed?”

John coaxed gently, not relishing the idea of spending the entire night underneath the cot. 

“But… I told you to leave… why’d you come back?”

Alex murmured, all unsure, all shaken and small and vulnerable, and John’s heart broke all over again. He kissed Alex’s forehead, and wriggled out from beneath the cot.

Reluctantly, Alex followed.

“Let’s talk in the morning, okay? Just… I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

John stood up, held his hands out and helped Alex up too. He guided him gently into the cot and lay down beside him. Pulled the blanket up to their shoulders and draped his arm over Alex. Pulled him close. 

“I’m so sorry John.”

Alex whispered. Broken. Fresh tears against John’s neck. 

John smoothed a hand down Alex’s hair and shushed him gently.

“In the morning, baby girl.”

It still hurt. There were still things they needed to talk about, things that couldn’t be unsaid. But it could wait. In the face of all this… it could wait.


	16. Chapter 16

When John woke the next morning, Alex was already awake and staring at him, faces only inches apart. There was something hunted in his expression, something bruised and torn wide open that made John’s heart ache. 

But John’s heart ached for reasons other than that too, Alex’s words sharp and honed to hurt.

“Why’d you come back?”

Alex asked again, voice broken and hoarse. 

John reached out and stroked the backs of his fingers over Alex’s cheek.

“Because I care about you, like I said, like I’ve been saying this whole entire time Alex, if you would only let yourself hear me.”

John couldn’t keep the frustration and the hurt out of his voice. Found he didn’t want to anyways. He watched pain and fear play across Alex’s face, kept his hand there, cupped Alex’s jaw. Wasn’t going to leave, wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I know that… this-“

He gestured towards Alex’s chest.

“-happened. But I’m not him. If you can’t heal from that, if you can’t stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over, and punishing me for something someone else did, then we have no future Alex.”

He stroked his fingers through Alex’s hair, had to touch him, could barely stand the look of anguish on Alex’s face.

“I made the biggest mistake, John, and I’m so fucking sorry. I want you to stay. I want you to keep falling in love with me. I want to keep falling in love with you. It’s just so hard for me to trust that good things can last. No one who claimed to love me has ever stayed.”

Alex’s voice was tight with pain, eyes shining bright with un-shed tears. 

John nodded, lump in his throat and tears in his eyes too. He twined his fingers through Alex’s hair and tugged him into a kiss, tears spilling from his eyes at the first brush of his lips over Alex’s.

“Good things don’t just last, Alex. You have to make them last. You have to choose the good things, every damn day of your life. That’s how you make them last.”

John whispered against Alex’s mouth, kissed him again, slow and sweet, forgiveness and love. Felt Alex’s breath catch against him, and stroked his cheek with his thumb.

“I’m not leaving. But I have to know that you want me to stay. I have to know you’re all in.”

He could only fall if he knew Alex was going to be there to catch him. 

Alex nodded, leaned in and kissed John, slow and sweet, love and openness.

“I’m all in.”

Alex whispered, and John melted. Alex’s hand came up and cupped his face, and John leaned into it, sweet surrender, Alex tangled tight with him in the early morning sun. 

“No more telling me to get out when I tell you I love you?”

John asked, small smile on his lips. 

Alex cringed, and nodded.

“No, no more. From now on I’ll only answer ‘I love you’ with ‘I love you too.’”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

John kissed Alex again, never wanted to break apart again. He knew it would come, knew there’d be a day they’d have to part and that it was probably coming soon, but for now…

“I’m holding you to that.”

John whispered, and Alex nodded, and then there was nothing more to say that couldn’t be said with touches and kisses. 

-

Peggy, the boys, and most of the guards departed the following day. 

Alex began pitching in to help, out of parchment and bored to tears without the boys to teach. So he helped John with his rounds, learned to change bandages and mix salves and wash linens. 

He won Hercules’ approval slowly and carefully with hard work and the honest effort he was making to choose the good things, to choose John, every day.

They fell into a new rhythm of quiet waiting, the work easy enough to keep up with that they felt almost lazy at times. 

The next time the ration wagon rolled in, it was empty and accompanied by a second wagon.

“War’s over, boys. Time to go.”

The driver spoke curtly, holding the draft horse’s reins in one hand and nodding down at John. 

John’s heart twisted in his chest. He looked up at this man who didn’t know him, didn’t know what he’d fought so hard for here, and why any of it mattered, and he resented that he got to come sweeping in and declare it all over, just like that.

“Did we…?”

“Peace treaty.”

The driver cut John off. John swayed, nodded. 

“How?”

He felt like the whole world was spinning too fast beneath him. Hope and fear and exhaustion a heady cocktail in his chest. It was over. Come hell or high water, it was over. 

“We couldn’t get a leg up on the Va’an army, and they couldn’t defeat us in a true head to head fight, but we couldn’t catch the bastards, and eventually they just got sick of chasing each other’s tails and signed. Open trade routes, market towns, and no more fighting.”

The driver spat over the side of the wagon and shrugged.

“I’m no governor. I just know it’s done and I’m taking you home. He’ll take the prisoners back down to Va’an.”

The driver nodded at the other wagon, and John’s heart sank.

“What if… I mean, they’re free now I guess, and with open trade routes… couldn’t they choose where to go?”

John dug the toe of his boot into the dirt, and found that despite the hardship and the exhaustion and the thankless work, he wasn’t sure he was ready to let this go.

“Nah. Not yet friend. Don’t think the capital is quite ready to welcome them with open arms. Maybe once tensions die down, once everything’s established, sure. But not yet. I’m only to take you and the guards.”

The driver shrugged again like it mattered not at all.

John knew just how much it mattered.

“Okay. Well… we’ll get the camp down, then.”

He walked off awkwardly, dazed with the suddenness of it all. It was over. It was all over.

The guards began breaking camp, and John went one by one to the tents, helping the patients who couldn’t quite walk yet over to the second wagon and settling them comfortably, one by one, until he got to Alex, who was napping on his cot in his tent.

“Baby girl…”

Alex sat up at the sound of John’s voice and stretched lazily, soft smile and open heart, and John fell apart. 

He fell into Alex’s arms, sobbing his heart out, clutching the back of Alex’s shirt for dear life.

“The war’s over. They signed a peace treaty. You have to go home. I have to go home. Alex, I’m going to miss you so much!”

His tears soaked into Alex’s neck and he shifted, wrapped his legs around Alex’s waist and clung on tight, heart breaking. It was over. It was all over.

“Hey wait what?! Slow down.”

Alex pulled back enough to catch John’s chin in his hand, tipped his face up so they were eye to eye.

“The wagons are here. You have to go home, I have to go home. They said for now, you can’t come with me, or me with you.”

John wailed, and buried his face in Alex’s chest again, feeling bereft. Everything he’d fought so hard for for so long was ending now, and a peace treaty was good and the war ending was good but it still meant that it was all over. It was all over. 

John was a million loose ends and nothing but pain in between. 

Alex held him close, rocked him gently, kissed the side of his head.

“Hey. It’s okay. These are good things, and I’ll come find you again someday, I promise. As long as you’ll have me I’m yours, distance be damned.”

John nodded, took a deep breath and wrestled his tears under control.

“Let me finish fixing your chest. Please? I can spend the power now, and I want to know you’re healed.”

John shoved his hands up Alex’s shirt without waiting for an answer, couldn’t let him go half healed and feel okay with it. 

“Okay.”

Alex nodded, and lay back on the cot. 

John looked at him, lying there with his hair loose and his expression open and trusting, and said a silent prayer that the next time he saw him he would still look like this. 

“Ready?”

He asked, hands warm against Alex’s chest, thin bandage the only thing between them, tears still streaming down John's face. At Alex’s nod, John closed his eyes and reached inside himself for the well of pale green, and then reached through his fingertips, slow and gentle and proper, and sank into Alex’s body as easy as breathing.

He carefully knitted the healing wound the rest of the way closed, strengthened the lungs, coaxed stubborn half healed flesh to close and smooth into a healthy pink scar. Took his time, let the power ground him and center him, let the pure joy of doing something he did so well wash over him and comfort the hurt and the worry. 

When it was done, he withdrew slow and gentle, pulled back into himself with as much care as he’d entered Alex’s body, tendrils of green following him up and out, back into his fingertips and then his center, and then he just stayed for a long moment, hands on Alex’s chest, breathing deep. 

“Why didn’t it hurt that time?”

Alex’s voice was hushed, and John opened his eyes. Smiled softly and only then did he remove his hands.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

He shifted so Alex could sit up and nuzzled close. Sat like that until in silence, just touching, just close, until Herc poked his head into the tent.

“Time to go, boys.”

He disappeared again, and John waited another long moment before he stood and tugged Alex to his feet.

“Ready?”

“No.”

Alex pulled him close again, into the deepest kiss that broke John’s heart all over again. He held Alex tight, tried to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, the exact stroke of his tongue in John’s mouth. Knew it would never been enough and clung onto every piece of it anyways.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

It was all over. It was all over. 

John swallowed hard and took Alex’s hand and together they exited the tent into a world that felt too bright and brand new, the camp nothing but a trampled field, tent behind them already being dismantled, wagons ready and waiting. 

John turned to Alex one last time. 

“I’ll find you again.”

Alex whispered, pressing their foreheads together. 

John nodded, couldn’t trust himself to speak. 

Finally, reluctantly, Alex kissed him hard and too long, then turned and walked away. 

John stayed where he was, watched Alex climb into the wagon and felt like the last piece of himself was being dragged away, everything he’d worked for being dismantled around him. 

The wagon turned with a slap of reins on the horse’s rump, and John watched Alex watch him as the wagon rattled away. 

“C’mon John. Time to go home.”

Herc slung an arm over John’s shoulders and steered him to their wagon. John climbed in and sat on the bench, heavy hearted, and felt Herc settle beside him. The wagon began to move, leaving behind nothing but the trampled field and the pieces of John’s heart.

It was all over. It was all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well.
> 
> That's that.
> 
> There'll be a little bit of a wait before the next installment of this series because I'm on vacation and won't be able to post much for a couple of weeks, but I wanted to get this done before I left! Thank you so much everyone for reading and commenting! <3
> 
> Come be my friend on tumblr! @ninyaaaaaaah

**Author's Note:**

> comments make the world go round <3


End file.
